


Primadonna

by swattiepenguin



Series: Vin et Crime [1]
Category: Cats Don't Dance (1997)
Genre: Detective Noir, Multi, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 68,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swattiepenguin/pseuds/swattiepenguin
Summary: Hollywood was the city of lights, of glamour, of the American dream. With its perfectly manicured lawns and the excesses of the rich and famous, there was an unmistakable allure to anyone to take their shot. But for one terrified soul, this was where she drew her last, trembling breath with a scream cut short. First Story. Updated every Friday. Content Warnings will be updated with every chapter that merits them!
Series: Vin et Crime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911598
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Image contains blood, text contains references to violence. 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

The barrel was still hot when the last lifeless body crumpled to the floor. Sawyer almost didn’t believe what just happened...she was still alive. This had to be a dream,or something had gone terribly wrong. She was glad the studio ventilation systems weren’t on or she’d smell the blood over the gunpowder. Her costume dress was ruined beyond salvage; not even the best laundromats could get rid of the stains. Sawyer could hear two familiar voices yelling to her, asking in their heavy accents if she was okay but it was all muffled to her ears. They managed to keep her and the production crew safe even if they risked their own lives. 

The whole affair wouldn't go well with the cops and the higher-ups. All that she cared about in that moment was the pained smile on his lips, his limp arm covered in red while his paw reached out to caress her face, 

“Are you all right?”

Everything else melted away as she smiled, tears flowing, her head leaned against the gesture, “Yes, I’m fine, you silly cat you.” The world seemed to melt around them as she closed her eyes and let the warmth on her face keep her company as the distant wails of an ambulance grew closer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this!


	2. Chapter 2

art credit: me

_ Tell me lies, tell me lies, and I’ll come running... _

“Rise and Shine, Sawyer...” 

Sawyer McDermid sighed with delight as a cheery voice whispered in her ear to welcome the day. Who would’ve thought she would have this as her morning routine? Waking up every morning to the cat who brought her smiles and shook up her life in the best way she could ever imagine. Green eyes met gold as the two shared a bedside kiss. She once mused that he could tell her the most comforting, wish-fulfilling lies and she’d come running. That had been some two years ago now and those indulgent half-truths had turned into realities. The sun shone for them now, through the crack between blinds and into their still frames. “G’morning to you too Danny,” her voice, sultry as ever, purred before she rose from the bed. How scandalous of them to share the same bed! They made it a point to never rush these moments, when the sun hit the small crack in the window, and slipped inside as a curious onlooker to these rising stars. “Do we have to get up?”

The country cat responded with another kiss, now to her forehead, “Those movies don’t make themselves, you know? C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.” A warm meal was enough of an incentive to get out of the treacherous bed that threatened to delay their morning even further. 

“Wouldn’t it the other way around?” the Persian cat remarked as she sat up, getting a laugh out of Danny.

“We both know we’re not the most conventional pair in the litter,” he reminded her with a gentle kiss to the messy forehead before he slid out of the bed. Country cats were always a surprise from Sawyer’s experience. Sawyer could still see the small discoloration along his shoulder as Danny changed out of his pajamas. It's been so long since she thought about the incidents that marked their lives but she could still hear the thunderous waves, the bang and the loudest drop of her life. 

_ That’s...in the past _ , the songstress reminded herself and decided to start her day with her right paw forward. The people who hurt them...they were gone. She would be safe to continue her career without fear. All that was left of those tense moments were the ruined costumes: a waterlogged pink sailor uniform and a red-stained Cleopatra dress along with the memories that played out in her dreams. 

Danny was already spinning a yarn while he flipped a pancake in the air, “My dad would make these flapjacks as tall as Marie when she was a baby, Monroe would hog them all,” It was supposed to be a slow day in their schedule: a table read, some quick choreography, and maybe a stop over at the auto-shop.  _ Time to see if Wade actually bit the bullet and decided to give up on that jalopy _ , he kept that thought to himself. 

“I wonder what it was like to have so many siblings in one house,” Sawyer ribbed on as she picked up the day’s newspaper, enjoying those little snippets of his life before Hollywood. Danny had always been like a good mystery book to her, each page revealing a new secret or a facet of his life before he tap-danced his way into her life.

“It wasn’t quiet, that’s for sure!” Danny assured before yelling out the kitchen window and towards the building next door. “Good morning Cranston! How are you doing this fine day?”

The curmudgeonly goat yelled out, waving his newspaper like a weapon to some invisible pest, “Darn CARDINALS! Yankees couldn’t hold it together when it mattered!”

Sawyer couldn’t help the laugh as she kissed her lover on the cheek and pulled him back into the kitchen, “He’s certainly doing all right.” Cranston never missed a World Series Game, and he certainly had his thoughts about how these ‘whippersnappers’ should play. Everything looked and felt like a wholesome morning breakfast and coffee. Things were going pretty good that day; both cats had time to kill before they had to take the tram over to Mammoth Studios. Then Sawyer opened the front page. Her fork dropped onto the porcelain dish, breaking the jovial air. Eyes widened with horror as Danny realized the room had gone cold. “Sawyer, what’s wrong?” he asked as he watched the Persian’s paw cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide, frozen in what she had just read. She tried to mutter an answer, but no words came out, so she drew a deep breath, “I need to call someone.” 

Danny was confused, but above all, concerned. “O-Oh, all right, do you...do you need a moment?”

Sawyer nodded before heading towards the telephone room, her body trembling from what she saw. Living in a small Hollywood apartment meant calls had to be done in specific rooms; no one quite had the cash to actually install a separate line. But this moment alone allowed the tabby to actually see what had upset his partner that much. They’d been through so much, something must have broken through the tough skin. 

Just below the World Series game’s headline sat an ominous sentence:  **TAP DANCING STAR FOUND DEAD IN WEST HOLLYWOOD.** The picture was of a beaming Cocker Spaniel lady, wearing a striped sailor’s costume. Danny was no stranger to that look: eyes full of joy and pride that knew she was going to make it big. He wore that look not two years ago...and for a minute, he lost that pride too.

Every bone in his body wanted to investigate this. He could get Wade and Paul and crack this thing. They could do the same they did for Sawyer back then…But would it be worth it? Acting became a full-time job, and so was the shop.  _ The police could handle this _ , he thought, he couldn’t just drop everything to play detective and possibly get caught in a compromising position.

_ It would matter. To her. _

This was someone important to Sawyer, someone who didn’t deserve what happened to her. Hollywood’s light could only shine so bright, and the shadows it cast were long and dark. The telephone room wasn’t too far, he could’ve made the trip in less than thirty seconds if he ran. But Danny understood the value of silence and only made his arrival that much more considerate.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Sawyer’s voice trembled, “I know she didn’t keep in contact after her first audition...Of course, I’ll be there. Do you think the old troupe could...I know,” whatever the memory was, it made Sawyer let out a sad chuckle, “I know Maude’s off somewhere in Pasadena, but I can’t imagine she’d just, I don’t know…”

Danny was no slouch when it came to remembering details, it was part of the job when learning a script. He patiently waited for Sawyer to finish her call, catching whatever information he could listen in. His ears were worth the ridicule he endured with Samantha Leane as a kitten.

“Who found her?...Really?” Sawyer asked then seemed surprised at the answer before she added, “Well I hope to see them at the viewing then. This isn’t about what happened back then, this is about...saying goodbye.”  As the Persian hung up the phone, she acknowledged Danny’s presence with a simple, “How much did you hear?”

“Not as much as you think,” he assured her with a gentle, mournful smile, “Was she a friend?”

“My best friend from when I was a kitten. Her name is-” her shock had caused the innocuous error, and she immediately fixed it, “was Claudette Simmons. Remember when I said my father would take me to singing and acting lessons?” Of course Danny remembered: it was the night that she revealed that gaping wound in her heart and the memory of that fateful night one of Thomas McDermid’s court cases came back to haunt him. “Mom decided back then I...should try to dance too. She...she was part of the troupe, Lady Abernathy’s Dance School. We both liked tap dancing better as we got older...our toes would get so sore, my mom would have ice baths ready.”

Tears began to roll down her face, “My dad would watch us dance and he’d smile. She was so good, she could tap the wood out of the floor. Claudette made her way to Hollywood a little before me…she auditioned, but, well, that was before you came along, Danny.”

It didn’t need to be told what happened next, and Sawyer’s eyes locked onto her beloved’s. Claudette never got as far as she would’ve hoped and had to do something else. There was a fire mixed in with that untold grief. Life had gotten in the way in that span of time, but there was still a surviving love from Sawyer. Danny of all living creatures in that green earth would know how intense the bond between lifelong friends could be. 

  
“I lost track of her for years...this shouldn’t have been how I found out what happened to her,” Those very tears began to burn and in that bright, sunny morning, Sawyer McDermid allowed herself to weep. Danny Richardson didn’t hesitate to bring her close to a hug, and a promise went unspoken as he held her close.  _ Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together.  _ They endured movie flops, they endured treacherous starlets, they survived the rehearsal incident. They could handle this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This series is a revisit of an old series of fanfics I did in deviantart back in 2010 (and they show their age), so characters and events are being reexamined and better suited for a proper noir mystery.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick content warning: alcohol consumption, references to Prohibition Era, and mentions of violence. 
> 
> I want to personally thank the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design. I also apologize for the previous omission when I first published this chapter.

art credit: me

In the months since Danny managed to settle into Los Angeles, there were at least three places he’d be guaranteed to be found at: Mammoth Studios, the apartment he shared with Sawyer and Wade’s shop. He’d never really bothered that much with the night life, only coming out to the nightclubs when Flannagan needed publicity for his newest production. When studios owned the actor’s image, if they said “jump”, the actors could only ask how high. It was likely one of the few things the tabby ever pitied the former child actress for: the constant need for perceived perfection in every single aspect of life, in exchange for all the wealth and fame Hollywood could offer. Anyone would’ve cracked under that much pressure. Animal actors had mostly gone unnoticed through the rigid studio system before and this partial lack of oversight allowed them to have some semblance of social agency. It made his visits to the small mechanic shop all the more important to him.

“De Los Santos Auto-” the ferret peeked from under the car he was working on, to be greeted by a familiar straw hat. “Danny!”, Wade rushed over to hug his best friend covered in grime and oil from a long day’s work, “I thought you had an off-broadway tour these days! You’re never around to grab a few pints!”

“Glitzy Cockatoo must’ve slipped up in the gossip radio then! I haven’t left California for a few weeks now,” Danny joked right back, setting aside his grocery bag and hat to return the gesture properly. Glitzy Cockatoo had quickly become one of the most prolific gossip machines in Hollywood, with the city tuning in at six o’clock on the dot. To be a featured story in her show was either a godsend or a death sentence to one’s career. L.B. Mammoth paid good money to have his stars, human or animal, shine with the brightest light possible through her scathing personality. “Speaking of nasty attitudes…”

Wade grinned for a little bit, always delighted whenever Danny took a shot at his younger, acerbic sibling, “Frenchie’s at the parts storage, God knows what he’s up to.”

Danny still couldn't understand how much trouble Paul could get into when he looked away for a few minutes to sign a fan’s autograph book. He rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the cars, “Hopefully not something that could get me in trouble again. The less we talk about the Cecil Hotel thing, the better.” 

“Pretty sure Glitzy would’ve had a field day if that got out-” Wade was interrupted by a throat clearing from behind. 

“I was defending myself and the man had a knife, willing to use it,” the slight French accent and deeper tone was a dead giveaway that Paul Aristide Richardson was not amused with what his friend and brother were talking about. “I did what I had to and you should be grateful I didn’t decide to finish what he started. I’m sure the man wouldn’t appreciate missing a few fingers for his trouble.”

If Danny resembled his father with his looks, Paul certainly embodied the mortician’s disdain for pleasantries and disregard for others’ safety. Unlike the actor, Paul was a living, breathing copy of what their mother looked like, with dusty off-white, almost cream colored fur only broken by the occasional darker marks. The brothers set aside their differences about what was a proper response to a drunken threat to share a hug. It had been too long since Danny had carved time away from the studio lots to see his younger brother. The orange tabby murmured with relief in his voice, “I’m glad you didn’t. I wouldn’t want to visit you in jail, even if you were defending yourself.” 

“ _ Mon frère _ , I wouldn’t be so stupid to let myself get arrested over a trivial matter,” Paul joked before breaking the embrace, smiling and letting their foreheads touch for a second, a holdover gesture from when they were kittens. “You’ve been missing in action around these parts for so long, I was getting concerned.”

With both animals claiming he had been away for too long, it was getting ridiculous that they’d think that, more so when they both knew Danny better than to just disappear without warning.  _ Jeez guys, guess I’m not the only one that gets wrapped up in work.  _

“You...both know Sawyer’s address, you dunderheads. You can visit us!” Danny assured them both, “You’d be surprised at how much weirdness she, uh, she can tolerate.” She could stand his family’s oddities, and even stand toe to toe with them. “She’s a tough cat.” He pouted a bit, “Please don’t tell me you’re scared of her.” 

Wade let out a snort, “If she didn’t run away screaming from everything you’ve both been through, she’s a keeper.” He settled his wrench down and crossed his arms, “I’m not afraid of some dame, but I dunno, I guess we just...didn’t want to mess up your spotlight. So, what’s going on? Why are you visiting us at this hour? Aren’t you supposed to be in some movie lot, filming the next great American movie?”

Part of Danny wanted to focus on their newfound star-struck aversion to visiting him and Sawyer at her place, but knew better than to deflect with these two animals. They would read him like a book if he tried to deceive them. The trio knew that there were only so many reasons the actor would visit, and spouting some generic ‘wanting to catch up’ would be insulting to their life-long camaraderie. He raised his grocery bag up and took out a bottle of Zinfandel, dated 1940. It was a sign that heavy conversations are to be had and liquid courage would be needed.

“Isn’t day drinking a crime in California?” Wade pointed out as he wiped his face clean from the car muck he was used to working with. He wasn’t about to rudely refuse the offer, but there were questions that needed answers before he could accept the drink. 

“Not since 1933 if I recall,” Danny replied, “We, uh, we need to talk.”

Closing up shop early was always a risky decision for Wade; his livelihood depended on people having car issues and finding him. But for his friend? He didn’t mind the lost income. He felt uneasy about all of the hesitation from someone as open and talkative like Danny. Paul shared this concern, this reeked of something personal and distressing. As soon as the doors closed and the sign flipped, the cream-colored cat asked, “What happened? Is Sawyer all right?” Paul was generally friendly with Sawyer, and was concerned about her well-being. She trusted him, and likewise, he could trust her. She had Danny’s heart in her paws, she told things how they were, and that won her points with the Frenchcat among other things. 

“She’s...she’s physically okay. I can’t say the same for her emotional state,” Danny responded, pouring a couple of glasses for his comrades. There was definitely something wrong, as both mechanics watched the wine settle; their gut feelings were going off. “She lost someone dear to her. News came out today, and she’s been making calls since.”

It took less than a second for Wade to put the facts together, nearly choking on his first gulp, “Wait, are you talking about the tap dancer? She knows her?” A quick nod and the ferret hissed in apprehension, “That couldn’t have been a good start to the day.” It had been all over the neighborhood, spreading like wildfire into every animal home. Speculation became rampant among the voices. Wade wouldn’t have paid that much attention had it not been a fellow animal.

“Our condolences but,” Paul quickly interjected, cutting right through his brother’s preamble, “Daniel, why are we talking about this matter, behind closed doors?” Hearing his full first name made Danny’s body language become slightly sheepish, and it caused his brother to roll his eyes, stand up from his chair, and say, “No.”

“Why not?!” Danny practically yelled before regaining his level-headed nature. The outburst had been enough for Paul to raise his eyebrows in surprise but not back down. So the conversation WAS about the murdered dancer’s fate, it was good to see Danny was still as transparent as ever. He couldn’t lie his way out of a paper bag when it came to family.

“Because that girl was  _ found _ by someone. This isn’t some nameless dame that we stumbled upon while fishing! The police are already investigating this!” Paul shot back, “Be honest with yourself Danny: for all it’s worth, we’re just two mechanics and an actor. You have no business to get yourself involved. The only reason you got away cleanly with the mess at Studio Lot 13 was because you came out looking like the hero and no one raised any questions after that!”

The actor wasn’t the biggest fan of that interpretation of events, mostly because it rang true. Had he been some nobody in the theater and not a rising star, he’d be held liable for what happened there. Whoever was the human gang’s leader, they didn’t see fit to waste their resources looking for some idiots that decided trying to murder a feline starlet was a productive use of their day. Danny would be lying if he said he didn’t want to investigate what happened further but there would be disastrous consequences. The fallout could’ve been so much worse than the Mammoth Studio flooding. Paul wasn’t being a jerk for the sake of being a jerk, he was doing his brotherly duties to protect his older sibling from making a career-ending mistake. In the Frenchcat’s eyes, it was an act of necessary cruelty that guaranteed Danny’s hard work, efforts, endless hours practicing and rehearsing didn’t go down the drain.

Nonetheless, Danny stood firm in his plans and argued, “The last time someone said I couldn’t do something, she ended up confessing to sabotage in her last movie’s premiere. Paul, this isn’t just some stranger on the newspaper,” the cat knew he had to appeal to his friends’ better selves. They were never this dismissive of someone who clearly suffered a violent demise and now a humiliating exposure. They were kinder than that, even someone as cynical as Paul.

“Frenchie’s right, Danny-” Wade tried to interject before Danny continued,

“She was to Sawyer what you guys are to me,” the tabby stated, closing his bright green eyes and hoping they understood what he meant, “She was family to Sawyer. And we all know Claudette’s going to slip through the cracks.” Danny was right, as painful as it was to hear out loud. The news cycles would continue and her name would fall into obscurity whether she was a human or an animal. Hollywood was a ravenous beast of a city and it needed fresh scandals to keep the star lights going. 

“I’m gonna go back to her apartment, and help her in what I can,” Danny stated as he picked up his hat, “You...you guys are welcome to come along but I’m gonna get to the bottom of this with or without you.”

Both Paul and Wade were silent for a moment before the former took one long, exasperated swig of his drink and grabbed his tool bag, “I hate it when you do that...to convince me to be a better cat. Fine, I’m in.”

Danny couldn’t help but smile a little, happy he got through his younger brother’s steely demeanor and appealed to his kindness, however frigid it could be. He turned his head towards Wade as if to ask what was his decision on the matter. 

The ferret snickered, finishing up his own glass and mirroring Paul, “Hey, someone’s gotta make sure Frenchie’s on his best behavior. I’m in too.” 

“Call me Frenchie in public and I’ll make sure you’re the last of the De Los Santos,” Paul threatened, eyes thinning as Danny led the way out, “So what do we know?”

“Well for starters, her name was Claudette Simmons. She was in Sawyer’s dance school when they were kids. There’s at least two more members that will be coming to the funeral next week. One of them is named Maude-”

“What a tragic name,” Paul quipped, earning a slap to the back of his head, “What?!”

Wade relished the murderous look in the cat’s eyes, knowing that he’d never actually go through with all those threats. “My good cat, manners.” Even less so with their tram coming up and witnesses abound. “Does Sawyer know about this little get-together?”

“Would you believe me if I said she personally asked for you guys to join in?” Danny responded earnestly, holding onto the passenger rails as the crowded medium took off. Again, lying would’ve been absolutely futile with these two. “I wouldn’t have come all the way here if it was just to grab a couple of glasses and have a picnic.”

“A part of me wants to say that I don’t believe you, but...you wouldn’t be so stupid to lie about something so important as your girlfriend’s approval. You’re just a bag of surprises, aren’t you Hollywood?” Wade stated, rummaging through his pockets to see if he had any smokes left. It was a habit he should really stop given that the ladies complained of his bad breath in those rare dates he managed to land in California.

“What can I say? I like keeping you on your toes,” Danny tipped his hat to his brothers in arms. Maybe it was time to play Dick Tracy for a good cause. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: allusions towards sex work, descriptions of a murder, some discussion of grief 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

art credits: Foreground, me, background: my sister

Sawyer knew her little corner of Hollywood well enough to know where Danny was headed to when he said his goodbye that noon. She knew what her boyfriend was planning on doing, and she quietly thanked her lucky stars he didn’t come back alone. The conversation hadn't been easy but she had to try and gather any help she could if she was going to investigate this particular death.

_ Her voice murmured against Danny’s embrace in the telephone room. “Danny, I know this isn’t what you usually like to do with your friends, but I can’t just let Claudette go. I feel like the Police Department’s gonna mess it up,” Los Angeles was notorious in these sorts of matters, and murders tended to either splash or peter out into obscurity. There was no doubt in the Persian cat's mind what way Claudette's case would end up in. _

_ Danny knew what she was referring to: he had a thing about being curious since he was a little kitten. “You know they’re gonna be a bit sour on the police presence. We can’t play detective if the coppers are around, doing their job. There could be some consequences with the studios...” _

_ “Consequences never stopped you before,”  _ s _ he quietly reminded him with a glance to those emerald eyes and kind smile, _ “ _ I’ll take the heat with Flannagan about taking the day off. I’ve handled worse calls. _ ” __

Her table was a mess after collecting the various clippings she could find on Claudette’s murder. Some called her an “up and coming” tap dancer, others focused on the brutal suffering she endured before she died. The worst of the bunch had to be the yellow press that made her discovery a pulpy mess of morbid details. That particular article spared no expense on what happened. She called in from work that day to Director Flannagan’s dismay and his producers’ exasperation, but in the end, they relented. She was a star, she was supposed to grin and bear her tragedies. But she successfully argued that even the best songbirds needed time to recover from personal loss.

It was natural for her to make the call to help Claudette’s parents in any way she could, including accompanying them to the morgue, arranging the preparations and the funeral. She had her connections in Hollywood, even if they weren’t the most glamorous compared to more famous stars. It helped to know the set gardener from the other studios to provide the flowers, a former aspiring actor that went into catering, or have a friend of a friend be willing to host the funeral in their mortuary business, like the Burrows down the street from the apartment. With the wake a week away, Sawyer doubted anything else could be done without having the departed’s family endure her loss again. How could she even ask for the case file if she had nothing to do with Claudette other than being a grieving friend? 

She welcomed three faces with varying degrees of acceptance when she opened the front door. She could tell neither Paul or Wade felt comfortable with the level of notoriety the murder already had. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she greeted them, relieved that they’d take the time to listen! Danny offered her a tiny smile, wordlessly assuring her that he’d do anything for her. 

“He went for the heart strings, it’s hard to say no to those big green eyes,” Wade answered the implied question as he hugged Sawyer tight, “I would’ve preferred a barbecue, a couple of beers, frozen fruits by the side…maybe a couple of single friends of yours.”

Paul’s eyes rolled in the back as he quipped, “And you call me a degenerate.”

It was nice to have some semblance of normalcy in welcoming and catching up with friends given everything that had happened. She only had time to pour out some coffee along with some leftover flapjacks, while Paul started the inquiry with a disclaimer, “You know what you’re asking is pretty much playing with fire right? One wrong move, and it’s very likely your careers will suffer, Wade’s gonna lose his shop, and we’ll probably have to go back to Kokomo...and that’s just the best case scenario.”

“My career doesn’t matter to me if she doesn’t get justice,” Sawyer replied without hesitation, putting her paw on Danny’s, “She was from a time before I came to work in Hollywood, she decided to take the leap before any of us did, save for Woolie.” She paused to reminisce about Claudette, her lips turned into a tiny, sad smile, “The last time I met her, it was for lunch a couple of years ago. We planned for another time, and we never really ran into each other again.” It hurt to say those words but the Persian cat couldn’t cover the sun with her paws. She couldn’t hide what she knew, anything could be helpful. “I can’t imagine what Woolie must be feeling right now.”

That old elephant could never forget a face, even if they stopped pursuing work in Hollywood, if his wall of pictures were an indication to the Kokomo cat. “We should visit him before today’s shoot starts,” Danny offered, “Drop by and let him know we’re there for him too.”

Personal grief was never something the tabby got used to, even as he grew up in a mortuary home. His mother’s death happened so long ago that he could only remember her voice from the few vinyl records that survived the move to Indiana. But her loss still lingered in Samuel Richardson’s heart to that day. Grief as a business? He could handle his father’s funeral practices. It was a service that Kokomo needed and all five siblings understood that someone had to do it. He understood that farming back in his old town had some risks that sometimes ended poorly and his father would be called to make the arrangements. Death by murder was so rare in their part of Indiana, that Los Angeles still gave him whiplash.

“Do you know what happened to her?” Paul asked in an uncharacteristically softer tone. He didn’t have a connection with Claudette, but it didn’t stop him from empathizing with Sawyer as best he could. 

“I only know what the press knows. She was found bloodied, beaten and the journalists suspect she had stab wounds. The way the article described how she was found, she didn’t go down quietly...she fought back,” the actress continued as she showed all three of her guys an old picture. Five young animals, all dressed in their leotards, while a stern lady doe stood to the left. The sign above read  _ LADY ABERNATHY'S DANCE SCHOOL 1931 _ . 

Sawyer smiled, pointing out Claudette beside herself, “We were pretty young back then, we’d do so many routines until our steps matched perfectly to the beat. My toes still remember what it meant to be  _ en pointe  _ even after all these years.” She then pointed to an Abynissian kitten, “That’s Maude, she’s currently in Pasadena...I forgot what she became, I think she stopped trying to make it in the theater circuit when she married Louie Palmer-”

“As in the owner of Palmer Used Car Lots?” Wade asked, surprised at hearing such a name tied to this matter, “His cars always have a problem or two, I’ve had a few of them in my shop. He’s certainly a piece of work, I’m told.” In fact, Danny had caught him fixing one of those cars right before he dropped Sawyer’s request on the table.

“Yeah...this one over here,” Sawyer pointed to a Dalmatian and a Calico kitten a little to the side, “Her name’s Dorothy. She’s moved to the East Coast as far as I know...Went on to do some small Broadway plays, mostly stayed with her husband Lawrence and currently manages an animal theater. And finally, there’s Phyllis, she went up to North California to become a homemaker.”

“So you’re the only one who made it?” Paul asked point-blank, washing down his earlier wine with some coffee. “The star that didn’t settle for anything, sounds familiar…” He smirked towards his older sibling. 

“Only because Danny was too stubborn to quit,” the Persian responded with her usual dry honesty, “I would’ve stayed being Farley’s secretary if he hadn’t reminded me of how much acting and dancing meant to me.” Danny brought back something she thought she lost after every rejected call, after every upturned nose that decided she just wasn’t what they wanted for their movie.

With all five members of the troupe, there was only one person left for Sawyer to elaborate on. “What about Lady Abernathy?” Danny inquired, curious as to how Sawyer learned how to move like an angel. He still remembered how he could barely keep up with her during that alleyway shindig and every time she was on screen. 

Sawyer made a strange face when she followed his finger to the austere visage, “She’s...well, she’s fine, but she had some opinions. She apparently came all the way from France, she claimed to be a professional ballerina from Paris, loathed tap and jazz.” 

“Unfortunate lack of taste,” Paul quipped, garnering surprised looks from everyone in the room, “What? I was raised in Marseille, she’s Parisian, they have their heads so far up their-”

“Did you keep in contact with her after you left?” Danny quickly cut his sibling’s foul language and got the investigation back on track. 

“No, she didn’t exactly endear herself with our parents. We all just went our separate ways and never really looked back. We haven’t been in the same room for years until next week.” The gravity of the statement fell like a runaway curtain fall, prompting silence in the room. All four animals understood that one small light had been snuffed out. “Are we really going to do this?” Sawyer’s voice barely hid a tremble, doing her best to remain resolute. “You can back out now.” 

“You talk like you’re about to commit a crime,” Wade remarked, knowing that they might as well be plotting it. They’d have to find a way to get the case files and, unless one of them had a badge hidden away somewhere, that wasn’t happening through legal means. “I mean I’m bored, and I’m not looking to join the war effort anytime soon.”

Paul merely shrugged, sipping on his mug before responding, “We didn’t come all the way here just to go back with our tails between our legs. I wanted to hear it from you, not my idiot brother nor the waste of hot air that is Wade. God knows when Danny has his mind set on something, he won’t stop until he’s dead or sees it through.” Sometimes Sawyer wondered how someone as bright and welcoming as Danny could be related to someone so caustic. Then again, Danny’s joy could light up an entire building if it could.

“I’m three for three and I’m still alive, gimme a break!” Danny argued back, then turned to his girlfriend with a smile, “We’re in!” 

A few hours later, Danny read out loud from one of the articles, “According to some of the news posts, Claudette was discovered in an alleyway a block from the studio circuit just past 4 am, pretty close to Mammoth Studios, actually.” It was already past lunchtime, and after Paul returned with their take-out, the table looked a little less chaotic than when the trio arrived. A small map was laid on a corner, while mugs pinned some of the loose clippings down. 

“I’m surprised L.B. didn’t give the order to shut down operations,” Wade pointed out, taking out a red pencil over an old tour guide map of Hollywood and circled the location, “Then again, I’m not the owner of a million-dollar movie production company.”

“Mammoth’s union but unless the cops start giving suggestions to close things down, we’re technically on the clock,” Sawyer responded to the best of her knowledge as she collected some of her notes and glanced at the map Danny was already circling locations on. 

“Claudette was found in the back alleys of this cluster of studios and restaurants, now how did she end up there? It was late but she’d be discovered just before dawn,” the Kokomo tabby reasoned out loud. There were a few establishments, like the 24 hour diner Sawyer and Tilly frequented before and after they were all nearly drowned and fired. A few bars and restaurants dotted the area but most of them closed at midnight…except for a few, one of them causing Sawyer’s face to turn sour.

“She was probably at Magnusson and Bird’s,” she suggested, pointing to a small locale, fifteen minutes on foot from where Claudette’s body was allegedly found. “It’s the only place that closed late. Wouldn’t surprise me at all that someone got the wrong idea of her stepping out of those doors.”  _ Dammit Claudette, what were you doing back there and so far from anyone who could see you? _

Paul’s eyes widened a bit, “You know about M&B’s? Didn’t expect that of you of all animals in this town.”

“I’ve been in Hollywood for a long time, I know what places to avoid.” If Sawyer had been truly objective, she would’ve said the reasons  _ why _ she avoided M&B’s in the first place. But a part of her mind still held on to the childish giggles she and Claudette shared between practices so long ago. 

“Did I...miss something?” Danny inquired, out of the loop as to how his sibling and his girlfriend both had knowledge about the same location within the same city. Then again, he hadn’t been around Hollywood long enough outside of working in it to understand it. Actually exploring the town hadn’t been a priority: it was all about getting roles, making rent, and hoping for the best. 

“M&B’s is-” Paul was immediately cut off by Sawyer, who finished the sentence with, “You go in there if you want to have a paid dinner date. A lot of places in Hollywood were like that but M&B’s had rooms for the extra ‘benefits’ if the guests were inclined.”

“It’s a brothel for animals,” the Frenchcat summed it up in his own blunt way, earning a tense glare from Sawyer. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong. Your friend was found near a known place where that sort of transaction took place. I apologize but that’s how it all looks!”

There was a loaded silence before the Persian exhaled and conceded, “Claudette must’ve had a bad night, met the wrong date and was murdered.” It was a quiet resignation that tore through even her tough skin. Claudette never had the chance to enjoy the Animal Renaissance as the papers started to call it. Paul might’ve been too harsh but he was right: it really did look like her friend had been murdered during a date gone wrong. She knew her resistance came from the memories and laughter they had once shared as kids.

While the two felines stubbornly held to their beliefs and frosted the room in their bitterness, Danny was pondering about the implications of the location and how close it was from Hollywood itself, furrowing his brows before asking Sawyer, “Did Claudette ever get a role in a movie?”

The question came rather abruptly and Sawyer responded with a perplexed tone, “I...honestly don’t know. She might’ve been an extra in a scene or two from  _ The Wizard of Oz _ and a Dimple picture but the only one who probably knows is probably Woolie. Why?”

“Because there could be something there? In the film, in Hollywood, I mean. Maybe she did have work, just...not with the same spotlight as ours,” he considered out loud and perked up a little, “Maybe it could help catch you up on what she was doing after that lunch date?”

Even Wade could tell that the suggestion landed bittersweet, as the ferret awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. That was probably something Sawyer would’ve thought of doing before Claudette’s murder. The Persian could at least give her lover an answer,

“Again, the only one who’d know about that would be Woolie. He’s kept all the test shots and all the rehearsals us animals did. He said he wanted to preserve what we did, so we’d never forget what brought us to Hollywood. Maybe he kept Claudette’s test reel as well.”

The old pachyderm had a special place in Danny’s heart. He’d been a kindly soul, stern but willing to listen to the ramblings of an idealist from Kokomo. In turn Danny somewhat heeded the caution and the rest was history. 

“Well, you two go visit the old guy,” Wade likewise suggested, as an olive branch between Paul and Sawyer, “We’ll, uh, we’ll go see if we can get the autopsy report.” 

Paul stared at his friend, intrigued at the notion before grimacing, “I’ll go pick up some extra bandages.” Wade tended to act before he thought and this wouldn’t be an exception. Before he could leave the room, the cream tabby felt his arm being grabbed. Green eyes met golden, and no words were exchanged at first between the two feuding cats. Sawyer had proven tenaciously protective of her loved ones, and Paul recognized that he crossed a line. He might’ve been stating the truth but it didn’t lessen the sting of loss. He didn’t need to see the conflict in his brother’s face, as he tried his best not to choose between love and blood. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about your friend,” was all Paul said at that moment and exited the room before giving Sawyer or Danny the chance to respond. He wasn’t as practiced in being more than the bare minimum of relating to others, but he recognized the merits of it. Wade shrugged and left the two actors on their own for now. He gently closed the door behind him while yelling to remind the other Richardson cat who had the keys to the auto shop and their means of transportation. 

Danny finally spoke up to apologize after what seemed like an eternity later, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” 

“He’s right,” Sawyer stated as she sat down on her chair again. “It’s not hard to assume what Claudette was doing in that place. I just...didn’t want to hear my own thoughts spoken by someone else. Someone else who could easily put two and two together.” The apartment felt so much bigger now that they were alone with the one surviving picture of Claudette pinned to the wall. “That could have been me, if I hadn’t found work with Farley.”

Two years ago, Danny would’ve assured her that it wasn’t the case, that things wouldn’t be so desperate. In two years, he learned better. He wouldn’t be exempt from it either, forced to settle for parts that squandered his talent, to pack it all up and go home, or to stay and survive through whatever other means there were available. What if he hadn’t decided to give it one more try and prove himself to Hollywood? What if he couldn’t go home? What choice did someone like Claudette have?

“...I can’t even imagine the pain you’re going through,” the country cat offered, kneeling in front of Sawyer in a show of vulnerability. “But you can’t carry the weight of someone else’s decisions. A-All we can do know is trace hers back and see where it all went bad.”

Sawyer looked down and let out a sad huff of a laugh as she put Danny’s staple straw hat on his head, “I must’ve been a pretty good cat in a previous life since I got stuck with you.”

“I’d say the same about you,” Danny whispered as he stood up and placed a kiss on her forehead.

The cab trip to Woolie’s trailer was a silent forty minute ride, but it might as well have taken decades. Neither cat wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but it would’ve been hard to not know about the murder by half past two in the afternoon. If the headlines didn’t break it, Sawyer’s conspicuous absence on set would’ve been telling enough. Hollywood just didn’t seem that bright now, every shadow lingering far more than Danny ever thought they could. 

When they got off their ride, both could hear somber music playing in the distance foretelling the heartbreak had been informed. Each step weighed heavy but both cats had to walk the seemingly endless alley to the mobile home. Woolie had long moved out of his show wagon and into a proper house. The former was now used as a simple matter of convenience and home on the set.

The closer they got, the clearer the song was…

_ Somewhere over the rainbow way up high _

_ There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby _

Danny instantly made the connection and glanced over to Sawyer. Her cheeks were lined with tears: the elephant knew. He took her paw in his, giving her unspoken support as they arrived at the door. She knocked once and between broken sobs, she called, “Woolie...we need to talk.”

The gentle rocking belied the distraught owner as he opened the door. “Oh Sawyer…” 

Grief was a powerful force, enough to make elephants and cats weep in an embrace as they both understood each other without ever speaking a word: she was gone, existing now only in the background of  _ The Wizard of Oz. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the read! And a special thank you for Fishgrunt and all the guest kudos for dropping by!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: none other than allusions to sex work, funerary practices, and discussions of grief
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Tea had always been Woolie’s drink of choice even if the situation merited something stronger. Stiff upper lip meant that drowning one’s sorrows in the old ways was out of the question, more so with guests. “I couldn’t help watching the old reels, it’s not very often our lot’s shine dims by such cruel acts,” the elephant broke the silence, as Danny did his best to help with the serving. He didn’t mind serving tea and biscuits, having found them half unwrapped. 

_ Woolie must’ve been getting breakfast too when his whole world collapsed, just like Sawyer’s _ , Danny thought, taking another glance at the many animals that tried their best to make it in the City of Lights. From what Woolie said, it was more likely than not that those that didn’t stay left for greener pastures. None of them actually died or worse got murdered as far as they knew. 

“I thought she could have another chance too, like we did,” Sawyer replied, staring at her cup, unable to face her mentor’s eyes. “I tried calling her after The Little Ark Angel premiere but she...the phone number she gave me didn’t work. I tried to look for her in every rehearsal I could sneak into, anything to find her.”

Woolie’s expression turned from grief to a sad acceptance, “She only stopped by to tell me she hadn’t landed the part in that particular film and hadn’t heard from her since then. She...told me she landed a dancing job somewhere.”

_ She intentionally cut herself off the Animal Lot? That’s strange, _ Danny’s thoughts thankfully remained in his head, while he sat beside his girlfriend and gave her support. One look at the screen and there he saw Claudette, dressed like a citizen of the City of Oz, smiling brightly even as the camera panned past her. She really was there…just like Sawyer said.

“Did she say where?” he managed to ask, doing his best to not be rude, and caught Woolie’s attention. Danny’s mind raced to try and cover up his true purpose of asking that question but mourning did strange things to people and animals. 

“She said it was around these parts, it was probably a small dance club,” Woolie found it easier to talk about what Claudette had been up to in the time leading to her death. “The police have already chatted with me. Whoever committed this heinous crime, they say it happened somewhat close to Mammoth Studios.” The sequence of events went implied and it gave more weight to the idea that the lady was at M&B’s the night she died. Had she been on a date or performing in that ‘dancing’ job she claimed to have? 

Sawyer blurted out, biting her lower lip to force the tears back, “I should’ve searched for her, I wasn’t working all the time, I had-” The red-furred tabby knew this part uncomfortably well from watching his father’s work: the remorse of decisions that were never made, phone calls that never happened, paths not taken. 

“Don’t do that,” Woolie interrupted her in a disciplinary tone, “As much as it hurts, this wasn’t your burden to carry-”

“Nor was it yours,” Danny added, standing between the two animals, “I didn’t know Claudette personally but...you both did your best to try and contact her. You were both living your lives, just like she was.”  _ And now we’re gonna try our best to figure out what happened in those last hours. _ He didn’t realize how many times he heard his father say these very words to others, engraved in his mind, along with the way he mirrored Samuel as he spoke them with conviction.

Woolie was caught off guard, he’d never heard the tabby speak about these matters in such a personal way, as if he lived this particular loss. “...You’re right,” the elephant sighed, recognizing he too was shouldering the weight of choices not taken because life simply happened. “The funeral will be this Saturday and Sunday, right?” 

“Yeah, here’s hoping her family and everyone makes it,” the Persian cat responded as she calmed herself down from her earlier outburst, “Thanks for-”

Woolie hugged Sawyer close and allowed her to exit his wagon with a heavy heart as he spoke, “You don’t have to mention it, my dear. We just have to go on with the show.” He had the same dread as she did: that this murder would go unsolved as the spotlight hopped over to the next big thing. The pachyderm stopped him with a toed hoof on his shoulders before Danny left. “I can’t bear to ask this of you, Daniel, but please take good care of Sawyer, now more than ever. She’s seen the darker corners of this city, and puts up a strong front to hide it.”

Woolie would never really know just how far the tabby cat would go to keep that promise.  _ I’d move mountains if she asked for it _ , he thought before he responded with a tip of his straw hat, “Yeah, I’ll do my best. Send my regards to the others, all right?”

The trip back to the apartment complex was quiet with only the hum of the waning city life keeping the two cats company. “Danny, I have to tell you something-” Sawyer began as she stepped out of the cab ride home. She finally had the wherewithal to speak up as the afternoon sun started to descend, “I didn’t want to say it before but you should know.”

“Unless you’re suddenly confessing that you’re actually dating Wade on the side, I think I can handle it,” Danny tried to liven up the mood with a joke at his and Wade’s expense. 

“I’ve asked your father to make the arrangements. He’s coming in two days by bus...” Sawyer knew how much friction there was between Samuel and his boys, most notably his actor son. She never understood why, given that Danny was a ray of sunshine towards most people and animals, Samuel...was not. But she knew that if anyone could treat Claudette with the dignity she deserved, it had to be an animal mortician that knew what they were doing.

Danny’s entire body tensed up, paralyzing his face in a short grimace. This wasn’t at all what he was expecting, and it definitely threw him for a loop. “Oh...well, uh, hmm.” To have him anywhere near Claudette’s body would give him a chance to get even more clues, but only through his judging blue eyes. He could practically hear his slight Southern accent snidely point out,  _ Look at my boy, the actor acting like a detective. What will you think of next? _

The Persian did her best to clear things up, “I wanted to tell you sooner but-”

“I guess better late than never, huh?” the poor tabby sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. “He’s not staying with us right?” That would’ve been the last straw for the beleaguered cat. 

“No, of course not. I...thought you’d be less composed than this,” Sawyer commented, arching an eyebrow at her boyfriend’s demeanor. She really hadn’t intended for Danny to have an early encounter with his progenitor but when she had to make the arrangements, Samuel Richardson came to mind. If he had even half the work ethic Danny and Paul had in their jobs, he’d perform his craft well on her friend.

“Oh, I must be pretty great at acting then because I’m falling apart inside,” Danny grinned awkwardly, unable to hide his true emotions for long. “Why did you choose him out of all the morticians in this world?” It almost made no sense until Sawyer explained herself, set in her ways.

“Because unlike some of the quacks in this town, he’ll give her the best care.” It was no secret that human morticians weren’t exactly familiar with animal care on that front. Worse was the fact that a botched job might as well have been considered taxidermy and she’s seen  _ those _ too. 

When she put it that way, the actor couldn’t help the sigh, “If you thought it was for the best, I guess I can handle a few days of him hanging around.” At least he hoped his patience would last that long.  _ Paul’s gonna have a fit when he hears this,  _ he thought with a grimace. 

Samuel was a strict father who seemed to give preference to his two daughters over his three sons. Marie Aimee was the baby, she was the last child before his beloved wife passed away and was cherished as much. Samantha Leane was a different story: she was the firstborn, and the one who decided to follow in her father’s footsteps. Danny always tried to have a good relationship with his father but the old cat was set in his ways. The last straw came the day before he left for Hollywood…

_ “Dad, I’m going to Hollywood!” the tabby announced joyfully while his father worked on his newest “patient”. The older cat didn’t bother to turn around, rubbing his wrist after spending the last half hour massaging the formaldehyde into the body on the table and headed to the desk to do some writing. _

_ Without lifting his head from his work, Sam replied, “Have a nice trip, and remember to bring a souvenir for your brothers and sisters when you come back.” He stretched for a bit, rolled his shoulders and signed the first of many pages. _

_ Danny’s happiness dialed itself down as soon as he heard that dismissive attitude. He was going to be an actor, come hell or high water. “...I’m not coming back.” He’d been practicing his routines and even some songs for auditions. He knew he was talented, he could make it! He was going to be the Song and Dance Cat in the city where dreams came true.  _

_ That prompted Samuel to finally face his third child and spoke in that self-assured voice that came from a life full of experiences and disappointments, “You’ll be back. I'll give you a week. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your read!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: cursing in French and Spanish, allusions to sex work and very outdated (1940's) notions of sexuality, description of a murder victim.
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

In another part of town, a French curse was let out in a back alley, “ _ Putain de bordel _ ! Wade, what are you doing?!” 

“Shut up Frenchie, you’re gonna get us caught!”

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration as he watched his friend try his damnedest to climb into the emergency window, “You mean you're getting yourself caught. I thought you were a moron, now I’m certain of it,” Wade had been cooking up a scheme to break into the police station that housed the local dead, including Claudette. He knew the nearest Los Angeles Police Station fairly well, fixing police cars gave him a chance to get to know the layout without all those pesky misdemeanors he had from Indiana. He knew this particular emergency window was broken from other incidents, most notably someone throwing a brick at it. “You’re not even close to the coroner’s office! That’s in the basement!” 

“Yeah I know but we can’t-” after a fruitless struggle, the ferret dropped to the floor, a frown on his face as he wiped his paws on his pants, “just waltz in and ask ‘Hey, can I go see your morgue?’, now can we?” 

“Well yes, actually,” Paul shot back with a smug grin, “If I know my shifts right, we could...if we went through the back entrance.” Shoving his paws into his pockets, the cream colored tabby spun around to walk to that very door. 

_ I don’t like where this is going, _ Wade thought, grumbling along to catch up. Crossing his arms, he watched as Paul gently tapped the window and called out to someone named Alfred in an overly sweet tone.  _ Oh no...he didn’t… _

From the door emerged a rather unkempt Manx tomcat, dressed in coroner’s scrubs and looking like he hadn’t slept in days if the long eyebags were any indication. Once the coroner realized who was at his door, he sputtered out, “P-Paul, I didn’t expect you here...so early.”  _ No wonder Frenchie guessed what Claudette was doing so easily, pot meets kettle! _

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises, and it’s been a while...I couldn’t imagine that you’ve been avoiding me for some reason,” the mechanic replied with a purr to his voice while he leaned forward onto the spartan reception desk, topping it all off with a wink, “Maybe you can smooth things a bit by letting us come in?”

Alfred was enthralled but not enough to miss the plural subject in the conversation. “Us?” The allure broke long enough that he could spot a noticeably annoyed ferret wearing some car shop’s uniform. 

“Oh, right, you’ve never met Wade, your life was better off up to this point,” Paul casually remarked pointing to the ferret having an internal conniption, “Alfred, meet Wade. Wade, meet LAPD Coroner Alfred Marsters.”

“Charmed, can I have a word with Paul here?” Wade quipped before dragging Paul back to the alley and far enough that Alfred couldn’t hear them. “You can’t be serious...you actually-” This was almost too convenient, that out of all the cats in the city, Paul was dating a  _ coroner _ . 

“Provided nightly company during those long shifts? Absolutely,” the Richardson cat responded, keeping his smile at maximum smugness. “How else do you think we get away with half the things we do?” The look of pure exasperation and annoyance in Wade’s face was just as Paul imagined it would be if he’d ever found out about his literal Get Out of Jail Free card. They didn’t just fix cars back in Kokomo and some of those jobs tended to get a little messy. “Now can we please go and say hello to Alfred and Miss Claudette?”

Wade had to ask the question even if he had a pretty good guess at what the answer would be, “Does Danny know?”

“Not at all, he doesn’t always need to know about these matters,” Paul assured, patting Wade’s cheek before heading back. Fuming at the fact that this all actually worked, Wade joined up with his friend, grumbling about French cats and their inability to keep their pants on.

“So, Paul, what brings you around these parts?” Alfred inquired as soon as both guests entered his office as he tried his best to remain a professional. Wade could tell that whatever Paul did, he did well enough that it got the coroner’s red hot blood running. 

“I was wondering if I could pay a visit to the morgue. I promise I won’t touch a thing, I respect the rules,” the mechanic answered with a half-truth. He wasn’t going to touch anything, he’s just going to read and observe. Before the animal coroner could come up with an excuse, Paul shot him an intense look and a saunter as he leaned over to his ear, reminding him of who had the power in the conversation. “I’ll make it worth your while, say a 1940 Zinfandel over at our usual place?” Wade sometimes wondered if Danny would’ve ended up the same if he had far fewer scruples. Both Richardsons were highly resourceful, able to take almost any situation and make the most out of it. It was both delightful and scary. 

_ God, why am I being punished by watching Frenchie have better luck than I do getting laid? I’ve been a mostly good ferret this week _ , Wade’s eyes were glued to the ceiling, looking for a divine answer. He didn’t need to hear his friend essentially bribe a coroner with a cheap motel date and rather expensive wine that just happened to be bought that same day.  _ Wait...That was the SHOP’S Zinfandel, you selfish trash heap! Danny bought that for the SHOP! _

“S-Sure...just wear the gloves and gear. L-Like you promised, you know the r-rules,” Alfred’s voice sounded in a light trance, and allowed the cat and ferret to step inside and borrow the equipment. The poor overworked tomcat got visible shivers when Paul got close and whispered just above his neck, “I’ll keep the light on for you tonight...you know where.”

Wade spat out “You’re going to hell for what you just did, giving away our-” as he put on the mask and gloves. Did the scheme work? Absolutely, and they were getting their information. It just stunk that a fine bottle of wine had to be sacrificed for it.

“Spare me-”

“That was OUR bottle, you walking, talking dumpster! That wasn’t yours to just give away!” the ferret added, with his priorities clearly in check and surprising the mechanic cat in question. 

“...Are you sure this is about the bottle?” Paul asked, suspicious about his friend’s reaction. A twinge of fear struck him, maybe being so flippant about these matters was a mistake. As much as he didn’t care for others’ perceptions, there were limits to the self-professed libertine lifestyle he led. In particular, he didn’t want to be seen as an outsider to those he trusted the most, like Danny and Wade. Would they reject him if he went too far with his pursuits?

“Yes I’m sure! Danny makes enough money to buy the good stuff, you can’t just give our wine to every charity case you drag to your bed,” Wade pointed out before letting out a long suffering sigh, “...I don’t know, you shouldn’t have been so harsh on Claudette’s memory if you do the same song and dance to get things done. Makes you look like a huge hypocrite.” The implication was clear: Wade didn’t mind so much about who Paul brought into his room, but he did mind that that the lure was something Danny brought for the shop and the double standard towards the deceased starlet.

_ I deserve that,  _ Paul thought, conceding that some taboos he exploited created glass houses. But it was comforting to know that, as it stood, Wade didn’t go for the low-hanging fruit of judging his choices in partners. “You’re not the worst ferret in the world, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, you’re not the worst cat in this building,” the ferret replied, offering the fellow mechanic a quick comforting grin before opening the door to the morgue. As cold as the room was, both of them knew the storage freeze was so much worse. They just needed to grab the autopsy report, take a peek and get out. Claudette’s case was recent, making the report finding and copying down into a few scraps of paper far easier than opening the locker door. Both animals read the news clippings, they could only imagine what her body looked like.

Wade swallowed as he unlocked the door’s locks, and grabbed the handle with his friend. “On the count of three, right?”

“Right…” Paul’s heart was as heavy as the weight slowing their inevitable task. He’d seen the dead more often than any other cat excluding the coroner back at the desk, and yet he still dreaded what was to come. “One...two…”

“Three!” 

When they both pulled the tray out, they knew better than to expect a pristine corpse and yet they still reeled. Twenty seconds was more than enough for the sight to become ingrained into their minds. Both animals pushed the slab back inside, looking aghast. They didn’t speak from the time they took off their protective gear to go back outside and bid Alfred farewell.

“Sawyer can’t see her like this,” Paul tersely remarked as he got into the passenger’s side of Wade’s car, “No one can see her like that.” It was the worst beaten animal the French cat had seen in years. Had they not seen her picture in the newspaper, they wouldn’t have recognized her. The anger, the torture, the anguish, it was all there to see.

“Too bad your dad isn't around,” Wade tried in vain to lift the mood but inside, could barely hold down his lunch and instead focused on smoking for the trip. The drive back to Sawyer’s apartment went silent, as both friends tried and failed to come up with small talk to distract themselves.

The air felt heavy as they walked over to Sawyer’s front door. “What are we going to tell Danny and Sawyer?” Paul asked softly, concerned how they could begin to process the brutality they’d witnessed. What they saw left the French cat speechless and he allowed himself to be vulnerable. He couldn’t cause the same distress to his brother and his love. 

“I don’t know...we’ll read them the autopsy report and hope someone in this town can somehow fix her up,” Wade sighed as he finished his cigarette and hoped to God it was enough to get him through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your read and for stopping by!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: description of a murder victim's wounds, consumption of alcohol, allusions to sex work 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Sawyer’s apartment became a sort of hub for all four to meet up and update themselves, even if no one felt like talking at that moment. Things hadn’t quite gone the way they hoped or in Danny’s case, hearing about his father’s upcoming visit was like a door slamming into his face. Paul and Wade walked through the door without making eye contact...it meant they saw something that haunted them into silence.  _ This would have to be the ice breaker, I suppose _ , he thought as he served four glasses of Sauvignon. 

“Is it that bad?” Sawyer inquired, accepting the glass from her boyfriend without much argument, receiving a single nod as an answer. The day had been terrible enough, it was time to somehow numb it all. It wasn’t a regular habit for them, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Paul could respond “Drink up,” before slamming a few gulps back. “Yes, it’s that bad. She needs a lot of work if her family wants an open casket affair, you might need an expert. Whoever killed her, they were merciless.” He wished he didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news but someone had to do it, even if Sawyer’s eyes became windows into her growing despair. 

“Well, we’re in luck,” Danny blurted out, giving his sibling a rueful look, “That expert’s coming...in two days. Or less, if he took the express bus here.”

The younger brother stopped in his tracks as if to allow his brain to catch up to his ears. It clicked and there was a look of vexation, “Ah. Wonderful. I was hoping to be even more distressed today.”

“Hey, we were just saying that your dad would be great for- OH,” Wade caught on too late as he remembered just how frigid the relationship between parent and children were. “Is he staying long? Because if he’s coming, I would really like to have some time to fix up the shop.” God only knew if Samuel caught him with a dirty shop. He might string him like one of his kids, and Wade would only have himself and his slovenly ways to blame. The feline mortician’s shadow loomed over the three friends, making Sawyer rethink her decision to call the mortician. She wondered what Kokomo life was like before Danny took the leap to Hollywood. And maybe a little part of her imagined him having a pretty country kitty by his side before he took that bus.

“Guys, he’s just another animal like us, and nothing he can say to you all makes you any less accomplished,” she stated as determined, “I made the call, and if what you’re telling me is true, then he’s needed. I apologize that I couldn’t tell you earlier.” She wasn’t about to back down on this. It was why Danny loved her so much since that afternoon at Farley’s office: she really didn’t care what others thought of her, she simply did what she thought was right. “So what happened to her?”

Paul relayed as best he could, unable to fully separate the report’s findings from the state of the body, “She had bruises all over her body and face, barely recognizable from the pictures. But the cause of death was a laceration to the neck. She...bled out, rendered mute from the attack. The report said there was glass fragments in the wound, meaning the murder weapon was probably a bottle…” No amount of scientific words made the brutality any easier to stomach.

Sawyer gasped in horror, paws over her mouth in a vain attempt to stop the sound. It was far worse than anything she read or heard that morning. Her whole body was wracked with tremors, which prompted Danny to spring into action and catch her before her knees gave out. He would’ve scolded Paul for being too graphic but the way both he and Wade reacted to the report, they were probably giving her the most sanitized version they could come up with.

Paul then added his own opinion, “I’ve not seen these sorts of wounds in many but I do recognize some of them as being personal. The murderer knew her, and attacked her. She showed signs of fighting back, her nails were noted to have blood under them, very likely her attacker’s blood. Whoever did this has deep, open wounds in their forearms...” 

The Persian could only imagine the struggle, late at night, as Claudette fought and screamed for her life, only to lose because the attacker pulled out a weapon of convenience. Whoever it was, they weren’t unscathed. She needed a few moments to recover from everything dumped on her lap.

“We found out that she did have a job as a dancer, most likely at M&B’s, she told Woolie and distanced herself from the Animal lot after not landing the lady dog part in  _ The Little Ark Angel _ . We’re gonna have to get into M&B’s as soon as-” Danny said just as Wade interrupted him.

“You’re not going to M&B’s, not you and Miss Los Angeles over here.”

“Why not? We could be missing a lot of-” The tabby had to be pushed into a chair, before he got too passionate on the matter.

“Because, Frenchie rightly pointed out at lunch, everything within a five-mile area of where Claudette was found is an active crime scene,” the ferret reminded both actors, “We can only swoop in only after the cops have finished. Pretty sure the only reason we’re not in jail for trespassing into a restricted area is because Paul pulled some strings.” 

“You were about to commit Breaking and Entering, mind you,” the cream-colored tabby remarked.

“Quiet you. Point remains, you two have to resume your acting gigs, pretend like nothing’s happening and we have a few cars to fix,” Wade concluded, sipping from his own glass before turning his head to meet Sawyer. He looked genuinely apologetic for these imposed barriers, “You have to pretend to be a member of the audience like the rest of the world...as much as you want to scream out the truth. You’ll get your chance, we’ll make sure of it.”

Such kind words and Sawyer realized that in the two years since Danny came along, she felt safe and able to vent out her own sorrows. Tilly was her best friend but there were things that she couldn’t say. The cheerful hippo probably wouldn’t understand what it meant to have a friend murdered out of the blue. It wasn’t...something she wanted to share with anyone. It was almost impossible to believe that it had only been a couple of hours since the news broke. Maybe they did need a break from everything and try to go back to normal for a while. 

“Thanks, all of you,” she appreciated the concerns, putting her paw on Wade’s as an assurance that she wouldn’t do something reckless in the meantime. “You two took time off just to do this for me. I can’t really-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Paul dismissed the thanks for something they all wanted to do: help her. “We’ll be scoping M&B’s and the body’s location out. We’ll let you know when it’s safe to go in. You can call the junkyard if you ever need anything.” 

“Excuse me, that junkyard’s your workplace too-” Wade snapped, throwing a light smack on Paul’s shoulder.

“Well if you keep getting junk cars, I’ll call it a junkyard, maybe have better standards,” the younger Richardson shrugged, already thinking of payback for that little aggression against him. 

As the two friends bickered their way out of the apartment, Danny closed the door behind them and settled down at his girlfriend’s side. A wordless lean and Sawyer rested her head on his shoulder, breathing as heavily as she could. Silence wasn’t always his strong suit but he could tell that they both needed it, to let their racing minds settle down. They had a lot of information now but it wasn’t their turn to process it. The stillness in the room was only interrupted by the sounds of the outside world, people chattering, the tram’s whistling arrival, car horns blaring in the distance. 

“I’ll make you dinner,” he whispered before kissing her forehead, the same offer he’d made that very morning, but with a drastic change in tone. That morning, Sawyer believed her old friends were all still alive and joining into the day’s bustle. Now, she had to prepare for a wake in a week or so. But a question lingered in the back of Danny’s mind:  _ Who found Claudette that early? _

He remembered Sawyer asking that very question when she was on her phone call, and by her reaction, it was someone who both she and the caller knew. It wasn’t Tilly, or the poor thing would’ve been bawling her eyes on set. Maybe it was Frances? Woolie didn’t mention her in the visit and the old fish would’ve also had a reaction at Cranston’s place. Frances was an old Hollywood fish, she didn’t need to go out in the early morning hours for a thrill, she had them all during the silent years.

“We can order take-out,” Sawyer quietly requested, grabbing his paw and snapping him out of his thoughts, “Just...stay here. Please..for now.” Woolie’s request came back to Danny’s ears, prompting him to nod and stay put. These were the moments that Sawyer’s walls fell, and she tended to her wounds. They could watch the sunset from their dinner table together…

As the light began to dim down, all she could say was, “I wish today had gone differently.” 

“Me too.”

Both cats could hear the radio jingle, marking the hour at six o’clock.  _ Say toodle-loo to your day, grab a chair as I say, It’s the hour of gossip and glam with your friend Glitzy Cockatoo! _ “Hello my salacious listeners!” the pitchy voice sang across the airwaves, “it’s me, Glitzy! Sad news this time around, as fellow animal and rising tap-dancing starlet, Claudette Simmons, was found  _ murdered  _ this morning, close to Mammoth Studios. Here at Cockatoo News extend our deepest condolences to the friends and loved ones for Miss Simmons...but the show must go on!”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead, almost caught off guard at such an abrupt change of pace. “Wow...that was…”  _ Callous  _ was the word he was looking for but the look on Sawyer’s face, one full of barely held-back anger told him that he wasn’t alone in that regard. It was in incredibly poor taste to just bring up a murder like this and simply drop it like nothing. Paparazzi were infamous for inciting headlines and unfortunately, this was no exception. 

“The police are currently searching through Miss Simmons’ last known whereabouts, including the infamous Magnusson & Bird’s Bar and Club, home to the scandalous Hollywood Homegrown Revue.”

That name struck a chord with Sawyer, “That’s a burlesque show, that’s probably the dancing gig Woolie was talking about!” Noting Danny’s confusion, she started off with, “A burlesque show is-”

“I know what that is,” the actor blurted, a tad red on the cheeks, “Trust me, I just do...What was it about? The Homegrown Revue?” 

“Oh! This makes things a whole lot easier,” Sawyer’s relief was palpable, and yet curiosity sparked in her mind: how  _ did  _ Danny know what a burlesque show was? As cheerful and sometimes naive Danny appeared to be, he had plenty of life experiences that showed a more experienced nature. “It’s a show for active duty soldiers on leave...though I guess it wouldn’t be just them. Not with M&B’s notoriety.” It would’ve been so hard to track any soldier down, not so when it came to the unsavory parts of Hollywood.

“Well, it can’t necessarily be a soldier, Paul said the wounds were personal, that Claudette knew who attacked her,” Danny remarked, quickly moving past his earlier embarrassment to focus on this new information. “It has to be a regular, we just gotta wait until he and Wade give us the go-ahead.” When that would be, it was hard to tell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your read!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: none for this chapter! 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Just as every animal suspected, Claudette’s murder had run its course in the press by Day Three, with her investigation only taking up a corner of the second page. Even Glitzy Cockatoo’s Cocktails With The Stars radio program stopped covering the murder itself, old blood didn’t sell as much as the latest celebrity gossip. As disheartening as it was, this was the sort of opportunity Danny and his friends needed. Disinterested investigators had to deal with human murders, allowing certain things to just not have the same oversight when it came to animal killings. Like an easily seduced coroner, or loose lipped extras on stage. Some animal actors on the various sets had mentioned that Claudette had been planning to make a comeback out of M&B’s, maybe audition for a supporting role. The Homegrown Revue was proving to be “too small” for her now that animals were getting bigger roles. It made her murder that much more tragic, ripe for the movie treatment.

“Quiet everyone, scene 22 rolling, AAAAAAAAAAND ACTION!” Director Flannagan’s shrill voice called out from his chair, overseeing the opulent sound stage. With elaborate sets came a need for a mechanic and Wade decided to cover this shift while Paul handled the auto shop. 

“Matilda, you know I can’t stay here forever...not when there’s so much work that needs to be done,” dressed in a Victorian get-up, Danny did his best line delivery under the scorching studio lights. The script was a 19th Century period drama, a shallow imitation of better written novels. A maudlin affair of a movie, it was clearly something for the morning matinee crowds looking to escape the dour daily news. That didn’t stop the tabby cat from giving it his all. It more than made up for missing that one day taking care of Sawyer and getting everything he could with regards to Claudette. Two years in Hollywood hadn’t worn down the energy he had towards acting, but it did make him wiser. 

As he acted his scene, he could see a familiar penguin sneaking a peek and staring with wonder. Pudge was a kid actor now, growing up under the watchful eyes of the camera lens. His parents must be so proud, and Danny helped ensure Pudge had a relatively normal childhood experience, like being curious on another set.

The assistant director announced, “Cut! Take a lunch break everybody!” prompting the tabby to get rid of at least the overcoat and ascot that was practically choking him.  _ I was being baked alive! With an audience and a camera to witness it! _

“Hey there Pudge! I thought you had a film shoot today!” Danny greeted, messing up Pudge’s head feathers with a grin.

“Oh I did! It got put on hold because the ice machine broke, and we couldn’t have snow on cue,” the penguin answered before swiping a few donuts off the cast table. And just like the concerned guardian he was, Danny took at least one pastry away in an attempt to lessen the inevitable sugar rush the young actor was sure to bring on himself. “You were doing great!”

“Thank you, it’s been a bit of a rough week these days, Sawyer’s been a trooper too,” the actor acknowledged the compliment while taking a bite out of his snack. He wasn’t about to tell a child what happened two days ago, but it was telling that neither cat was completely present that one day during shoots. 

“Yeah, my parents are really worried about what happened to that lady, they don’t want me to do any work after sunset,” through Pudge’s innocent observations, Danny got a much better idea of how on edge animals were in this part of Hollywood. There were no clues that could indicate a possible serial killer on the loose but fear propagated like a bad cold in these lots. “Hey Danny, how come your parents are never around?” 

_ Well, that was...direct, _ Danny thought to himself, clearing his throat, “Well, my mom passed away when I was just a bit younger than you are and my dad lives in Kokomo. He...might be visiting soon enough, if he doesn’t get lost.”  _ He should be calling Sawyer soon, I think _ . In fact, Danny was very sure his father was supposed to arrive sometime in the evening according to the bus schedules. It would give everyone a chance to freshen up, get some reservations and maybe have a pleasant dinner.  _ Maybe _ . Was it selfish of him to wish his own father got on the wrong bus and gave them one more day? Probably but it was a rare instance of self-preservation.

“Oh wow! It’ll be great to meet him! Bet he’s a great cat like you!” Pudge exclaimed, none the wiser. “Sure, let’s go with that,” the tabby did his best to keep his upbeat persona while keeping his worries mostly to the back of his mind. “Now, you head on back and stay safe!” With a wave and a hop to his step, Danny turned around and started heading back into the set. He had a long shoot ahead and he was pretty sure Sawyer was in the next lot, dancing her heart out for another scene. 

To say that  _ I Dream of Marigolds _ was a tedious movie to make would be an understatement, and wrapping up for the day at 4 o’clock was the godsend people only dreamed of. “Matilda”, played by a lovely Angora cat who was starting to get her own footing in Tinseltown, was thanking Danny when an even lovelier and familiar Persian arrived on foot to the entrance. 

“Howdy to you, Miss Angeline,” Danny greeted, taking off his straw hat in a gallant courtesy and calling her by her current role’s name, “You look stunning.” No need for exaggerating there, he truly thought Sawyer looked beautiful in a simple white blouse and A-line skirt. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere Mr. Richardson,” she purred, and for a moment, they could both pretend that this week was just like any other. That maybe they could go out for drinks and a wonderful meal somewhere down the road. But her amber eyes belied a deep grief, unable to truly let go of it until there was some justice done. At that moment, Danny dared to kiss Sawyer, a token of affection that needed no audience to try and pull her out of that bereavement. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked, gently rubbing his thumb over her cheeks.

“I’m trying so hard to keep my mind on the script but it all seems like a blur...The director said I had a good read but I...couldn’t be able to tell you what he actually said,” Sawyer confessed, “I guess I’m not the only one who's spooked by all this. Management wanted everyone out early, just in case.”

A taxi cab parked itself on the side without much fanfare, catching a few departing staff by surprise. “Now who could be visiting the studios at this hour?” Tilly inquired, just as she was bidding her director a good night. 

As soon as the cab disappeared, the answer was clear as the waning day and Danny’s heart sank. Dressed in dark clothes that would be considered formal and old-fashioned in sunny California, while donning a sharp black Panama hat, a red-haired cat picked up his suitcase and made his way to the studio lots. Piercing blue eyes located their target, and a smirk took over the aged face. In that second, Danny felt he was a kitten, as if his father caught him stealing a few cookies before dinner. 

“Hello boy,” a Southern twang weaved itself into a deep voice that sounded like velvet felt. Lifting his gaze and allowing light to show his features caused Tilly to gasp in shock. With greying bits of fur in what could’ve been a beard on a human, standing upright in a less sinewy form, it was what most would imagine Danny would look like in his middle age. But what set this cat apart from his child was the sheer presence he had in the open space without speaking a word. He was in command at all times, even as he removed his gloves as a courtesy.

“Hi...dad,” Danny managed to say, believing that Paul and Wade probably felt the sudden chill in the Hollywood air. “Had a nice trip?” Every feeling the actor had since the last time he saw his father came to the surface, above all, the fear of being a failure. It was amazing how two years of living in Hollywood, growing into a savvier cat disappeared instantly, and Danny felt like the day he left Kokomo. 

“Absolutely not, the bus broke down when it arrived in Los Angeles. I then took a taxi here, would’ve arrived earlier if there hadn’t been a police checkpoint,” the older cat replied without much care for the stares he was getting, putting his gloves in his pocket, “Where’s your brother? It’s not like him to be late...or does he not work here?”

_ At this point, he’s probably hiding behind the Hollywood sign or on the next bus back to Kokomo.  _ “He only works here if they need mechanics, like Wade,” Danny answered with growing exasperation. 

“Ah, Ángel, of course, you three were always trouble when you were together-” Catching his own lack of introduction, the patriarch removed his hat to Sawyer and Tilly, “My apologies, an uncomfortable trip is no excuse for a lack of manners. My name’s Samuel Richardson, I’m Daniel’s father. Pleased to make your acquaintance, madams.”

Tilly let out a happy little shriek, and clapped her paws together in rejoice, “Danny! Why didn’t you tell us your dad was coming over!” Before the poor cat could even come up with an answer, Sam took the mantle, “Oh, this is just a passing visit, I’m not staying long. But I would’ve appreciated a reception.”

_ Here we go _ , Danny’s lips drew themselves a line, knowing that as soon as everyone else left, he was going to get a lecture about hospitality. At least Samuel had the decency to have a cover story, to keep his true project as discreet as possible.

“Mr. Richardson,” Sawyer cut in, quickly retaking the situation and focusing both father and son on the matter at hand, “We do have reservations, if you care to join us.” She had experience handling difficult clients back at Farley’s, this wasn’t the first time she’s had to deal with strong personalities. 

“Miss Sawyer, I’d be glad to be your guest,” Samuel replied just as curtly; he knew when to quit while he was ahead, more so with someone who was as headstrong as the actress before him. She wouldn’t kowtow to anyone and he respected that in her. “You can both give me a tour of this city later. I’ll be glad to finally see the City of Lights.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your read!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: description of a murder victim's body in a mortuary setting, discussion of grief, 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Sawyer could feel the tension in the air as soon as she opened her home and allowed Samuel to enter. In a way, his arrival heralded Claudette’s eternal sleep, and a better chance to save her stolen dignity. 

“Is she nearby?” the mortician asked, setting his suitcase to the side and took in the progress the ragtag group had made. Just as Sam suspected, they were investigating the murder. He could tell they didn’t have much in the way of clues, but knowing them, they were probably onto something. He’d almost voice his pride but withheld it for now. He was a believer of earning the praise, and from what he saw, all they had was common knowledge.

“She’s resting at the local funeral parlor, just a block from here...her parents identified her yesterday…” Sawyer stopped her answer, looking down, “I assured them I’d cover the arrangements. It’s the least I could do for them.” She still remembered the anguish in that phone call, hearing Claudette’s mother screaming that they killed her baby. She could only imagine what they saw, what Paul and Wade saw that day. Maybe she could give their daughter back like how she used to be for just a few hours before the lid closed.

Samuel assured the actress, “Good, your kindness won’t go unnoticed.” It was like a switch had gone off, and all the arrogance he usually had was neatly tucked away to be comforting. “It cannot be easy on anyone, I know that much. I don’t usually make these kinds of calls but...” he held her tiny paws so gingerly, “these are extraordinary circumstances. I won’t charge you or her family a penny.” 

Danny knew these actions well, these were glimpses into his father’s gentler side. One of the key lessons in acting was to channel pain, to recall it and lay it all out in a performance. Sometimes, that acting could give someone a much-needed shoulder to cry on. Except when it came to death, Samuel wasn’t acting, he was empathizing. It wasn’t a matter of cost for Samuel, it was about doing right by his client. 

“Miss Sawyer, I know you’re tempted to come see her but...I must ask that you don’t come with us,” Samuel instructed, laying down the rules. “What I do is not for the faint of heart, and I cannot guarantee a perfect job. But I will give you my best.” No mortician worth a damn could ever claim to do the impossible, to restore their loved ones into a facsimile of life.

“I understand, Mr. Richardson,” Sawyer accepted the implied contract: she would give the mortician space to work and in turn, he would give Claudette the care her parents needed to send her into her afterlife. It felt as if she was making a deal with the grim reaper himself, the air heavy but necessary. “Danny, would you take him to the parlor?“ she requested, motioning to the door. The younger Richardson nodded and with that, he led his father out the door. Both cats could hear her voice break into soft sobs as they left. 

“How bad is it, Daniel?” the patriarch asked, looking out on the porch and lighting a cigarette. He offered one to Danny, and smirked a little when the latter politely declined with a quiet no. 

“Really bad,” it was all Danny could come up with, remembering the report Paul relayed two days ago. “I-I don’t know how anyone could be so cruel,” he murmured as the two made their way to the funeral home. “I’m still trying to figure out why anyone would just snap like that and then just not care if their victim was found.”

Samuel shot a disbelieving look at his son, before focusing on his path, “You’ve seen cruelty, boy. I just made sure you never saw the full extent of it. Not every corpse on the table was a farm accident.” The older cat had seen many things in his life, even before his career as a mortician, and malice had been a recurring motif. He worked his tail off to keep his children from seeing how ruthless the world could be, and in a way, he did too good a job at times. Danny could’ve been more prepared to deal with those who acted in bad faith. This was also one of the rare moments that the actor witnessed his father acknowledge his paternal love. That he really did try to shield his children from being exposed to how terrible people and animals could be with each other. “Maybe the murderer had a grudge against her, knew her personally...most murders are committed by someone the victim trusted to get close enough.”

“Do you know that from experience? From the parlor back home?” Danny asked, curious as to how his father could come to his conclusions. Like any curious son, he wanted to know how Samuel ticked, what shaped him to be the cat he is today. 

“Both...unfortunately.”

The receptionist, a taller than average tawny owl who had just shown up for her late night shift, opened the door for both cats as soon as they drew close to the parlor. Dressed in a simple black dress with a white neckline and a name tag that read  _ Patricia, _ she greeted the two gentlecats with a nod and asked, “Ms. McDermid had told us to expect company. Mr. Richardson, I presume?” 

“Indeed,” Sam nodded, putting out the cigarette he was only halfway done, “I presume any preparations were done here and not at the coroner’s?” Ever the consummate professional, he then requested the protective gear while Danny took in the sights. “Only the autopsy was performed as far as we know. I was also instructed to have the room ready by Friday...are we expecting a small or large turnout?” Patricia informed, clearly concerned that this parlor wouldn’t be able to accommodate a bigger group. This was clearly a mom and pop affair, with flowers set aside to replace the old. Paintings of still life scenes decorated the walls, with seats lined up for mourners to come along and a simple moka pot & stove to brew a comforting mug of coffee during their vigil.

_ Kinda like the one in Kokomo, _ Danny observed, not really paying attention to his father’s conversation with the funeral director,  _ the only difference is that this place has more viewing rooms. _ Three wide doors allowed entrance to each area, with only one having a name plaque that read “FAMILY AND FRIENDS OF CLAUDETTE SIMMONS OCTOBER 1942 BURIAL AT HOLLYWOOD CEMETERY”. Danny had to recognize that even this “quaint” funeral parlor was bigger and more opulent than anything he’s seen in his hometown.

“Boy, are you coming along or staying outside?” Samuel’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts. He must’ve been wondering for a while as his father’s all suited up for embalming, including the mask that covered his mouth. He looked like one of those mad scientists from a cheap horror movie, especially with the apron shielding him from any stray materials that could splash about. The receptionist stood beside a heavy metal door, the telltale entrance to the morgue.

A part of the actor’s mind wanted to bail out, not because he was afraid of a corpse but seeing the violence his brother saw. Was he ready to see the cruelty Samuel hid for so long ago? Or would he stay in his bubble, in which everything he went through in Hollywood were the worst events he’d experienced? Both were valid options for Danny but he had to make the choice now. “I-I want to see her. Before you start working.” He wasn’t a kitten anymore, he could take it. He needed to see who Sawyer was putting her career in peril for.

“That’s fair, come along then, she’s waiting,” Samuel stated firmly, as if they were making a patient wait for their appointment. Secretly, he was proud of his son for having chosen reality over the carefully constructed lie he built. Maybe Danny had more of his father’s traits than he realized; that stubbornness was a mirror to his own.  _ Aimee, you’d be delighted to know he’s just as determined as we were. _

The table itself was set up with all the instruments Sam would need to perform his work but the focal point was the body on the table. The cold air made Danny shiver slightly, but he dutifully followed his father closely, trying his best to hold his nerves at bay. Everything his mind could up with, all excuses to take back his choice, failed to reach his mouth. He didn’t want to face Claudette, reposed under that white sheet but he had to. He had to see what happened to her.

Samuel didn’t tear the sheet off in some grand theatrical gesture...Instead, he gently pulled away the top corners to reveal a grotesque sight. Bruises still dotted her face, while milky dead eyes peeked through her half-closed lids. Even her lips had signs of the struggle she had endured. But what impacted Danny more than anything was the damage on her neck. The jagged holes in her throat gave credibility to what Paul had reported on: she was stabbed with a broken bottle at least once. The body that laid before Danny looked nothing like the vivacious extra in the  _ Wizard of Oz _ reel. The sight prompted him to whisper a solemn promise to her memory, “We’ll find out what happened to you.” 

The patriarch patted his son on the shoulder and murmured, “It’s time for me to work...I’ll be staying at the Greco Hotel once I’m done here. Go be with Sawyer, and follow through on your promises.” Danny almost got the chance to object, before Samuel snapped back, “That’s an order, Daniel,” the tone the mortician had left no room for arguments, dismissing his son with a paw gesture, “I expect to have lunch with you and Paul tomorrow afternoon. We’ll talk about this ‘inquiry’ of yours then, are we clear?” Danny knew that commanding voice very well, the same one that could make even his spiteful oldest sister stand just a little straighter.

As Danny turned tail to leave the preparation room, he heard Samuel request the receptionist, “Patricia is it? Can you please put on the coffee? I have a long night ahead...” “Right away, sir.” The actor did take one thing from the front desk: a business card.  _ Never know if I’ll need it. _

Walking back home as the sun finally set, and the street lights began to light up, Danny allowed himself to stop and rest against an alley wall. He took a few deep breaths to release all the tension he had from that sight just a few minutes ago. Eyes widened, he swallowed a lump in his throat, as if every emotion wanted to burst out all at once. Could he sleep tonight, having seen what he did? The cat wanted desperately to say yes, that he could rest easy but he’d be lying to himself. Someone out there had killed a fellow animal with such brutality that he understood Paul’s hesitation. Doubt began to set in: what if he couldn’t find Claudette’s killer? What if he really was in over his head? He was an actor for goodness’ sake!

_ No, this isn’t me _ , Danny assured himself, and resumed his walk home, back straight and his head up high,  _ I didn’t quit when things got rough... I didn’t quit until Sawyer was safe… _ Samuel didn’t raise a quitter, and right now, Danny had a new goal in mind: he had to find out what her last hours on Earth were spent in. That gave him two branching paths to consider. He could try and find her last known address or he could drop by the notorious Magnusson & Bird’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your read!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussion of sex work, allusions to army deployment
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Sawyer was used to dealing with disappointments, especially after moving to Hollywood, but nothing as personal as this case. She wasn’t exaggerating when she told her lover that she could barely remember the day, and her performance on set. With every passing day, she realized just how little she knew Claudette since they parted ways so long ago. Sawyer didn’t even know her last known address, let alone her plans. She heard the rumors from her set, about Claudette’s possible comeback to the silver screen, but every hunch still drove her back to that bar. Someone there knew Claudette’s last known whereabouts.

_When are Wade and Paul going to let me into M &B’s?! We’re wasting valuable time sitting on our paws and Claudette’s murderer is running free! _ Sawyer was frustrated, but she understood just how noxious that kind of thinking could get if left unchecked. _She was going to give Hollywood a second shot-_ then it clicked. Claudette had already been through the Hollywood circuit before, she left connections with people in town, not just Woolie and their little group Wink’s Talent Agency. _Farley’s office probably still has her card!_

And that meant _she_ had Claudette’s card. Sawyer was a hard worker, even with Farley’s dismissive demeanor, making duplicates of every contact they had. Having worked for that animal talent agency had somehow come up with another positive outcome as Sawyer sprinted across her own apartment and scrambled through her desk drawers. Digging through old paperwork and a fair amount of odd scripts, she prayed she kept that one card out of all of them. 

Finding that card, worn down at the edges, was probably the highlight of the entire week, as Sawyer pulled it out of a box full of other forgotten animal actors. _A starting point, if she didn’t move out, of course_ , she thought, finally getting somewhere with the timeline. “If only I had someone in the police force that could get me her file…” she mused, acknowledging that any progress she had was at least three steps behind whatever.

“Well, I can’t really say Paul has someone-” Danny’s voice caught Sawyer off-guard, “But he did get into the morgue to get us information on what exactly happened to Claudette.” Both cats looked at each other, silently asking if the other was all right. The tabby shook his head to answer the unsaid question, and finally spoke again, “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping very well tonight.” 

Sawyer frowned and glanced at the card in her paws, “Everyone in this room has seen Claudette...except for me.” 

“If it helps, she’d want that,” Danny assured her, “You met her as kids and as adults, that’s how you should remember her.” The gravity of his words weren’t missed; Sawyer knew Danny wouldn’t lie to her, or dismiss her frustrations with empty platitudes. He never got to meet Claudette in life, and all his mind could associate with her was who lay on the cold steel table and the few film frames that outlived her. “What do you have there?” 

“It’s her contact card, that thing Farley probably had you fill out two years ago,” Sawyer responded, showing the cardstock, “If you had bothered to sit still for a minute that day.” The little curl to her lips made Danny remember that week with a slightly embarrassed perspective. He never got around to doing that minor task, Sawyer definitely knew her way around the business. “She lived close to M&B’s, probably a fifteen-minute walk from the place, according to this address...it’s a start but how are we gonna get in if we’re not her family? Lord knows how many times the gossip rags might’ve tried.” 

Danny instantly came up with an idea, “We can say we’re gonna pick up a few dresses for the viewing. They can’t say no to that and I’ll tell ‘em my dad’s the mortician!” It sounded practically fool-proof, if garnering a disbelieving look from Sawyer.

“Something tells me you’ve done this song and dance before,” she remarked, genuinely intrigued as to how resourceful her boyfriend could be. Had he and his ragtag friends done these sorts of investigations before in Kokomo? Or was he that quick on his feet? Maybe it was both. 

“When your dad owns the only funeral parlor in the area, folks tend to think the walls are thicker than they really are,” the tabby shrugged, reminiscing about all the times he and his siblings would listen into their father’s meetings. They were cats after all, curious to a fault, and the stories they heard were always fascinating. He held up the Burrows Funeral Parlor card he picked up and showed it to the Persian cat, “It’s worth a shot.”

“If it’s worked for you before, I can’t imagine it won’t work now. Let’s try tomorrow before we head on over to Mammoth Studios,” Sawyer suggested before Danny interrupted her with one question,

“I’ve been meaning to ask a-and I’m so sorry I eavesdropped but...when you were on the phone three days ago, you asked who found Claudette’s body,” he was clearly uncomfortable asking such a detailed question, knowing that Sawyer believed she was alone in that moment of anguish. “You...reacted like you knew who found her. Who were they?” Danny had his theories, ranging from an old friend, to someone as ubiquitous as Mr. Mammoth himself. The man did own the lots, but never really made visits to the ground level. The question surprised the Persian cat, before replying with a sigh, “Lady Abernathy.”

Danny blurted out, “She must be ancient! What was she doing out and about? I thought she retired,” earning a sad chuckle from Sawyer. Danny was too blunt for his own good sometimes.

“ _I_ never said Lady Abernathy was retired. Dancers don’t just quit, especially a dancer like her. She still choreographs productions for the directors here in Hollywood. From what I was told on the phone call, she was headed through the back entrance to set up for the day and that’s when she found the body.” Though the distance between the Dance Studio and where Claudette was found was far enough that Sawyer had her own doubts.

That just left one more detail up in the air, as Danny added in, “Why did you think she wouldn’t come to the funeral?”

That question hit a nerve as Sawyer looked to the floor, “I don’t know but from what I know of that old witch, she probably didn’t approve of Claudette’s career path.” She could practically hear the thick Parisian accent in Lady Abernathy’s voice, scolding her students for even making a misstep. She couldn’t imagine what marathon of scorn her dearly departed friend must’ve endured if she got caught coming out of M&B’s. 

To Danny, this felt like both Sawyer’s and Claudette’s pasts were meeting into a single date, bits and pieces of their decisions culminating into one last good-bye. It softened the blow of what he saw today a little more, his mind already building a clearer picture of the tap dancer’s life. 

“Here’s hoping she does show up,” the Kokomo cat sighed out as he rubbed his eyes, a clear sign of exhaustion. The day had been draining with filming and dealing with his father exacerbated it. “But you and I have a morning date at that address.” His tired bones weren’t about to stop him from assuring his girlfriend that he was still in this hare-brained plan. “Shoot! I forgot dinner!”

Sawyer rolled her eyes in a playful manner and stopped Danny from rushing to the kitchen with a paw to his chest. “We can eat sandwiches tonight; we’re both in no shape to handle sharp objects or hot surfaces.” For both cats, a warm bed with cool pillows was a far better temptress than any meal and heralded the much-needed close of the day. With a gentle pull to his arm, Danny allowed himself to be led into the bedroom, as his hat fell on the floor and Sawyer closed the door behind her. 

The next morning, both felines were dressed and heading out to the address on the card, wearing nondescript clothes that didn’t call attention to their celebrity status. Just like Wade advised, they were doing their jobs and acting like they were part of the audience in this macabre production. And like an audience, they certainly didn’t expect the sheer luxury encompassed by the condo on the address. With pristine white paint and gilded windows, it made their place look downright homely. 

“...Claudette was...living it up,” Sawyer managed to pick up both her and Danny’s jaws from the floor. Small wonder she didn’t want to quit M&B’s until she was certain she could make a comeback: she didn’t _need_ it. All this time the Persian thought she was struggling, and in a way, she still believed that. Nothing about this building assured a steady stream of work, and more like dating the right people. The little white lie worked at the front desk, more so when Danny showed the receptionist the card he got from the funeral parlor. Thankfully the lady, a prim twenty-something woman, didn’t bother to ask many questions, merely handed the duplicate key over to him and sent them on their way. 

If the building felt like it was worth a million dollars, Claudette’s apartment fit right in with the image. Wilting red roses in sculpted glass vases decorated the flat surfaces while a few shopping bags full of unwrapped items went unseen. There were signs of police presence left over, like a stray shoe print and a number tag. If the two cats had been allowed up here, it wasn’t too far off to assume the police had released the scene earlier. 

“Holy moly,” Danny stated in a dream-like tone, “There’s definitely a lot to search through…” He could count the times he’d seen this kind of opulence in one paw. But something about all the gifts, all the luxuries didn’t feel right with what happened to their owner. Was Claudette dating someone with ties to the underground? Or someone with a lot of money to burn?

“You’re telling me,” Sawyer spoke from the wardrobe, trying her best to pick at least three dresses and give their cover story some credibility. “Some of these clothes are worth a day’s work for me when I was a secretary.” The stunning details, pearls and jewels decorated some of the more ostentatious pieces but in the end, she picked out only one of that style. The other two were simpler dresses, befitting someone who worked hard for her craft. 

Some of the gifts had messages written in them _To the loveliest pair of legs in M &B’s, yours truly KP _ , _To Claudette, you were the light of the night for this old dog, QJ_ , and _Baby, I wanna be the sheet in your bed tonight, MS_. 

“I...didn’t need to read these,” Sawyer grimaced, realizing what all of these notes meant: she was trading intimacy for gifts and dates all right. But in a sense, they all demonstrated a key element to her death: they all knew her and would’ve been at the bar that night. They had three names now: KP, QJ and MS. Three patrons that knew Claudette enough to get her gifts.

Meanwhile, the tabby searched around the nearby mail and any scraps of paper that could give them any clues to what happened before Claudette went to work that night. Postage receipts up to a few days prior to her death told Danny that she was regularly sending letters. On her desk there was a half-written letter to a Pvt. Roland West of the 86th Corps, 

_Dear Pvt. Roland West_ , 

_I hope this letter finds you very well, safely stationed in Europe...I included a little picture for those lonely nights_ -

Danny immediately stopped reading and closed the letter containing a rather...saucy picture of Claudette. _Well, I should have expected that_ , _she certainly helped boost that dog’s morale_. And yet, this letter meant that whoever this Pvt. West was, he wasn’t around California during the murder. In fact, there were a fair amount of unsent letters to the same corps, meaning they had all been present at one of the Homegrown Revue’s shows. Both cats agreed on one thing though, “We have to go to the bar tonight.” With or without Paul and Wade.

Leaving the apartment was a bittersweet experience for Sawyer, it was the first and only time she’d ever visited the place. As a cab arrived to pick them up, she wished that Claudette would’ve greeted her at the door, beaming as they hugged. They would’ve shared coffee while Sawyer presented Danny to her childhood friend. It would’ve been so great...instead, she was carrying three dresses for Claudette’s parents to choose for the wake and burial. Danny caught her silence and held her paw in his, quietly assuring her that he was there for her. They were going to get to the bottom of this somehow and get closure for everyone involved. 

“Dad wants to have lunch with me and Paul,” the tabby murmured as soon as the two actors were in the taxi cab. He spoke as if he were going to a dreadful audition and in a sense it was. Samuel could certainly judge like a director who strove for perfection. 

“You sure you can handle it? Can Paul?” Sawyer asked, still feeling a tad guilty about possibly reopening any old wounds the sons had with regards to their father. The Frenchcat was probably less than enthused about having Samuel around Los Angeles, for reasons the actress had yet to ask about. 

“We’ve had worse Thanksgivings, don’t worry about it,” Danny remarked with an uneasy smile, “At least it’ll be in public so he won’t be a huge pain with an audience watching.” Was he talking about his father or his brother? It was hard to tell. “It’ll be my treat, I suppose.”

“I’m gonna send your name to the local church and have you canonized as a saint,” the Persian joked as an attempt to lighten the air. “I’ll send these dresses over to the parlor, see you in the evening then?”

“That’s a date, Miss Sawyer, hopefully we’ll both be in one piece by then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reads!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussion of possible violence
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Meetings between members of the Richardson family had always been tumultuous affairs, mostly due to their strong wills and this lunch was no exception. Danny sighed out, looking at his pocket watch and hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. Sitting with him was Paul, who was as silent as a grave, flicking through the menu for what was the tenth time this hour. Their father was running close to late for the lunch  _ he _ asked to be set up for them, typical.

“God, I hope he suddenly went senile and forgot,” Paul said out of the blue, gesturing to the waitress for a glass of white wine. 

“That wouldn’t stop him, you know that,” Danny replied, asking for a glass of water instead, and deciding to talk to his sibling, “How are things with Alfred?”

The question clearly surprised Paul, causing him to choke on his drink. “P-Pardon?” The raised eyebrow and tiny smile on Danny’s face showed that he did figure out how he got into the morgue without much fuss. “How did you-”

“Does it matter?” the older sibling chuckled, “I’m asking because I want to know if things are going well with my brother. You and Wade dropped everything you had in Kokomo to visit me-”

“And we never left, you should be kicking us out,” the cream-colored tabby deflected, trying to change the subject with humor. For all the playful sniping, Paul never regretted the choice to convince Wade to visit Hollywood and see how Danny’s harebrained scheme paid off.

_ Wade rubbed the back of his head, as he tried to keep his best friend in check, “What if he’s got new friends in Los Angeles?” _

_ It had been three weeks since Kokomo got the surprise of a lifetime, and splashed on the front page was one of their own talents, a feline singer and dancer who had big dreams and accomplished them with gusto. Scores of animals and humans came to the Richardson farm and the funeral parlor not to seek the family’s services but to congratulate them. Even Wade’s mother and housekeeper to the small estate, Maria Catalina, began to receive the praises. _

_ The entire time felt surreal as Danny’s achievement opened new doors for so many, including the other Richardson siblings. While Monroe finally got the acceptance letter he’d longed for, and Aimee Marie was allowed to practice her archery without question, it wasn’t the only mail the Richardsons got that day. _

_ Paul rolled his eyes as he held up the postcard and pointed to the ferret’s name alongside his, “As much as I hate feeding your already healthy ego, I doubt those friends are anything like you. You’ve been there since we were born, how could he not want you to visit him?” When that failed to boost Wade’s confidence, the fellow mechanic added, “Besides, what’s a little look around the ladies at the West Coast?” _

“I dunno, I don’t mind some parts of my family moving to California with me. You like it here, don’t you?” Danny stayed on the matter, demonstrating a genuine curiosity and concern for his brother’s happiness.

“The dating pool is better, no denying that, and no one knows we’re related to the local mortician,” Paul admitted, uncharacteristically open to talk about private matters. Danny had always been there for him, and likewise, Paul would’ve done unspeakable things for him. Those few childhood years spent in Marseille, under the watchful eyes of Aunt Elodie and Aunt Amelie, went just a little faster knowing he’d be reunited with his favorite sibling and their best friend at some point. “Now I’m the little brother to Danny Richardson, the Cat who Danced his way to Hollywood.”

The hidden praise made Danny bashful at his own success, still not believing it all came true when it almost didn’t. “I hope that gets you as much tail as you think it does. I don’t know when dad’s coming but I also don’t know when we’re gonna have another break like this…” It was a tacit acceptance that Paul could be honest with his brother, no matter what. It allowed the mechanic to share a sincere smile before leaning closer and responding,

“We’re not serious, we both know it...didn’t stop me from showing Wade up. You should’ve seen his face-”

Danny covered a few laughs with a paw, “You know how touchy he is about his dating record, you really are terrible.”

Paul scoffed, sharing in the comedy, “It’s not my fault he behaves like a lout and ladies are instantly repelled by him!” 

A cleared throat ceased their joking around as a familiar presence interrupted both cats. Samuel would’ve apologized for coming in so late had he not caught two of his children gossiping like hens. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Oh...hi dad,” Danny broke the ice, bracing for the verbal smackdown, “Um, no, nothing just, catching up with Paul here.” Back to business it seemed.

“ _ Bonjour, mon père _ , did something happen?” Paul greeted, hoping to all the saints that could hear him that their father hadn’t heard everything he and Danny were discussing 

“Claudette needed a lot more care than I anticipated, waiter, the wine card,” Samuel responded, clearly looking exhausted but accomplished as he took off his hat and settled down in his chair, “Ángel’s at the shop, right?”

“Yeah, why?” the mechanic assured, looking at his brother a bit more confused.

“Someone has to be your cover story if the police start asking your whereabouts when you’re out investigating,” Sam elaborated a bit further, knowing that out of the two brothers, Paul was the likeliest one to get in trouble for meddling in this matter. “Claudette’s ready for her viewing but something tells me you’re both more involved in this ‘investigation’ than just giving a grieving friend one last send-off,” he added, nodding at the waiter when his red wine arrived.

Danny didn’t bother to hide his intention and stated outright, “Yeah, we’re gonna get to the bottom of her murder.” Spoken like a true Richardson, determined and unapologetic. “I made Sawyer a promise, and I intend on keeping it.” 

“I’m helping him out of the goodness of my heart, shocking I know,” Paul quipped, crossing his arms in some defiance. Samuel recognized the spark in both pairs of green eyes. They were Aimee’s children all right…and good to see that Paul was just as committed to this case as Danny was. Maybe it was a ploy to raise hell by the younger one. Paul had a penchant for trouble and seemed to revel in the thrill of it, not unlike his younger self, but it didn’t matter to the mortician: his boys were carrying on his legacy in some strange way. Could they have known that sleuthing wasn’t just a hobby for a mortician in a small town? Samuel buried his badge the moment he opened his funeral home with Aimee, in that sleepy corner of Kokomo. 

“An actor and a mechanic pretending to be detectives, what will you two come up with next?” Sam mused with his usual bluntness, interrupting his own memories, sipping from his glass and entertained himself at their annoyance, “I do hope I can say, without a doubt, that neither of you are going into the lion’s den unprotected.” That wasn’t a question: he  _ expected  _ his sons to be ready for a skirmish. His glance was pointed not at Paul, but at Danny, quietly casting doubt in his pacifist son’s ability to defend himself. Danny wasn’t prone to violent delights, if their conversation at the funeral parlor was any indication. Then again, Danny never hesitated when push came to shove. 

“I’m not going in there without a weapon, if that’s what you’re asking,” the actor shot back, eyes thinning at both this and the previous swipe at his career. Samuel would’ve inquired further but something about that answer gave him some confidence that his son wasn’t as airheaded as he led people on. 

Paul glanced at his brother, perplexed before putting together a theory, “You found a link to M&B’s, didn’t you?” 

Danny’s demeanor returned to his usual assured self and nodded, “Not just that, Sawyer and I found at least three names of three regular visitors to her performance.” He wrote down the three pairs of letters he remembered on a napkin, “They were so regular, they bought her really lavish gifts. Plus Sawyer told me that Claudette was found by someone who would have to go through that alley to get to Mammoth Studios. M&B’s was her last stop before she got murdered, no doubt about that.”

“And I’m willing to bet good money the bar has a few secrets of its own, starting with who those names belong to,” the mechanic added, “If they’re willing to dish out money for her, they must have a huge tab...”

“Good job boys,” Samuel quietly praised, startling both cats before slipping a folder for them, “There were leftover shards embedded into the wound, found them while cleaning Claudette. Look for any missing whiskey or bourbon bottles at the bar, her killer very likely took it with him before running into her...or following her.” Before the mortician released his file, he sternly reminded his sons, “don’t lose sight of the fact that this is someone’s daughter you’re playing detective with.”

“Don’t worry dad, we’ll do our best,” Danny assured with a wink and a smirk as he stood up from the table, folder under his arm, “You didn’t raise fools. I gotta go to the sound stage, but...” He lingered before giving Samuel a surprise hug, “Thanks.” The mortician hesitated to return the embrace for a moment before letting his guard down long enough. Given that their previous interactions have been so rocky, Sam hadn’t expected his flightiest son to express anything but contempt towards him. 

“Be careful,” the elder Richardson whispered before bringing his other son into the hug, “Both of you.” Samuel couldn’t express why he was so concerned, his pride was his burden to carry. But to see Aimee’s heirs, her voice and her visage together, it reminded him of how easily he could lose them with one stray bullet. “Don’t make me regret coming here and helping you two.”

While Danny was busy with lunch, Sawyer was coming back to her apartment, exhausted from handing in the three dresses to Claudette’s family. Everything about this case made every step feel like her small frame weighed a ton, especially having to face her friend’s parents. Like her, they would’ve done anything for one more day to talk to their daughter and tell her how much they loved her. She could only hope that the dresses she picked were to their satisfaction.

She should’ve headed back to the studio lot and picked up where she left off in her reads. But just as she made sure to save Claudette’s card, Sawyer settled down to preserve the information she and Danny uncovered that morning. The Persian wrote down everything, from the three pairs of initials, the letter sent to Pvt. West, the Homegrown Revue, all going up on an increasingly expanding wall of documents in her dining room. 

“There we go,” she said out loud, looking very satisfied at the progress being made. They had a rough idea of the timeline immediately before Claudette’s murder, a possible set of suspects and even a motive. Then again, Sawyer knew that everything could change at a moment’s notice and everything they had could be rendered moot. “We have to visit M&B’s regardless, someone there knows something-”

A knock on the Persian’s door interrupted her line of thought, “Now who could that be?” Catching a glimpse of a nearby clock, Sawyer grimaced, “Oh boy...I’m gonna be late.” She loathed being late to work, whether it was at Farley’s or at a movie set. She was a professional after all, and timeliness was one of her strengths. She half-expected a director’s assistant or Danny’s far more welcoming return, just not the mailman. 

“Sawyer McDermid?” the man asked, as per protocol. The apartment wasn’t his last stop and he had plenty more to deliver in this block.

The Persian cat looked a bit confused, “Yes? That’s me, how can I help you, sir?” 

“Package for you, ma’am, have yourself a good afternoon” the mailman responded while taking out a small box-shaped item from his bag and tipped his hat goodbye. By the looks of his mail satchel, he was in for a busy afternoon, and carried on to the elevator down the hall. 

“That’s...strange. I don’t remember expecting anything,” Sawyer murmured as she closed the door behind her. It had no return address listed, only a P.O. Box, and for a second, she thought this was an early holiday gift from her family. Then again, her parents would’ve told her. The actress cautiously shook the package and felt around it. There was something inside all right, and had some bulk to it…

Using a letter opener, Sawyer carefully cut through the layer of brown paper, making sure to keep herself safe above everything else. She noted that whoever wrapped this package did so in a hurry, didn’t bother to do much other than conceal the nondescript box with the simplest of seals to keep it shut. Once she opened the box, Sawyer’s heart went off to the races, her paws trembling with the sudden rush of emotions as she held a well-worn hardcover notebook that read  _ This Diary belongs to: Claudette Simmons _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reads!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: None
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

When Sawyer showed up late to her read, Danny grew concerned about her whereabouts. It wasn’t like her to miss half a day’s work, save for the day all hell broke loose. More than anything, her commitment showed how hard she had been working into her career from the day she stepped into Hollywood. She taught the Kokomo cat the ins and outs of Tinseltown, from showing up to auditions, to how to pick the proper songs and routines for a casting call. In turn, Danny made sure Sawyer practiced with him. A small smile wandered to his face as he remembered how they practiced lines the previous week,

_ “Miss Angeline, you’re looking smashing today! Is that a new perfume today?” he recited with an exaggerated British accent. He was purposely making a fool of himself, to see if Sawyer could handle the rest of the script. _

_ She did not and burst out laughing, “I liked it better when you did the French accent!” _

_ “You mean like Paul but less of a jerk?” he responded, changing his intonation to better fit his brother’s voice. _

_ “That’s the one. Speak those sweet romantic words, farm cat...” she shot back while stealing a kiss from him. _

_ “Je parle pas très bien le français but I can try, if it means I get another one of those,” Danny playfully responded, chasing her girlfriend around the apartment, script in his back pocket. Two years together and they still felt wild about each other _ . 

They worked so hard to get the delivery, the positions, everything right... it was surprising that Sawyer would come in so late for the role she was working on so intensely. Danny couldn’t get out of his script reading for that day, but he kept an eye out for her every chance he could slip away or catch a break. He almost bolted out of every scene he wasn’t needed to see if she was alright. What if they were wrong about Claudette’s murder and there really was a serial killer out there?

Relief washed over the actor as soon as he heard her voice reciting her lines in the other studio lot, letting his mind settle down into something less hectic.  _ Oh thank goodness, she’s safe _ , he thought, and resumed his own work with Flannagan’s slog of a movie. The main shooting schedule was already one third of the way done, allowing Danny some extra wiggle room to work on his detective moonlighting. Tomorrow was a rare weekday off, meaning that if he and Sawyer made their way to M&B’s, he could at least sleep in or spend the next day recovering from the inevitable escape. 

When the last hour of the workday rolled on, Danny expected Sawyer to meet him outside of the lot but not Wade and Paul. Everyone shared an incredulous look between themselves then towards him, prompting the tabby to ask, “What’s going on? Did something happen?” He braced for the worst possible outcome, that Sawyer had been dismissed from her movie, or that something else compounded the case.

Paul shook his head and gestured to Sawyer. She finally answered the question by presenting the package to her lover as gingerly as she could, as if it could fall apart with one wrong move. Once Danny lifted the lid and peeked inside, his eyes widened at the realization of what he was holding and his jaw fell open. “Y-You’re serious? This is…” he stammered, unable to get his thoughts in order quickly enough.

“Yep, it’s her diary,” Sawyer assured, not raising her voice from a soft whisper and keeping her view down at the book, “I was sure that it really was hers before I called these two, to share what just showed up to our place.” She recognized the handwriting and the little theater stubs from before she and Claudette drifted apart so many years ago as they made Hollywood their home.

“How did the police miss this?” Wade remarked, rubbing his forehead in worry, “you guys didn’t steal it right?!” He’s been in that LAPD holding cell enough times to know that scene tampering was a major crime. Paul himself paled at the very thought that his brother and his sweetheart could be going to jail for seeking some measure of justice. The thought ran circles in both their minds, trying to make sense of how this crucial piece of evidence went unnoticed.

“No! It came in the mail!” Sawyer immediately assured, “I don’t know when she sent it but...she did!” She showed them the postage stamp and slip in her hand, the date being just a week or so before Claudette’s death. That statement made something in Danny’s brain realize a detail he remembered from the apartment,  _ the postal receipts!  _ The receipts he found on Claudette’s desk were recent, it was possible that this package was mixed into her ‘care packages’ to the military guests at the Homegrown Revue...no one really cared to follow them.

“Well, this just proves the police aren’t doing a thing for her,” Paul hissed under his breath, disappointed but not surprised. “They want the case solved as soon as possible, God knows who they’re gonna pin it on.” 

That was exactly what Danny was afraid of as he finally spoke up with his own theory, “Unless a Pvt. Roland West is somehow in Los Angeles, they probably found the same three pairs of initials and the last known place she was seen alive.” As concerning as it was to see how actual detectives hadn’t intercepted this package, it was a boon for their investigation. 

Wade gave Danny a confused look, prompting him to elaborate, “I dunno what Sawyer’s told you but when we went to Claudette’s apartment, she had a fair amount of army letters that were supposed to be sent out.”

“What kind of letters?” Wade asked, confused at why such a minute detail stood out.

Danny struggled to come up with the words before responding with a quip, “The type of letters a soldier far away from home would like to get from a pretty lady, for a long, lonely night.” 

That made sense to the ferret and made a slightly mortified expression, “Ah. So…she was definitely doing something on the side along with the Revue.” Wade had the same problem Danny had when it came to Claudette: his major reference point wasn’t the glamourous dancer but who he saw on the table.

“That was fairly obvious if you visited her place,” Sawyer added, resigned to the reality that Claudette wasn’t who the Persian believed she was. No use in pretending otherwise.“We’re going in tonight, right? All our leads point to that place, so let’s go.”

Just as Wade was going to argue to the contrary, Paul stopped him with a dismissive paw gesture, not unlike his father, “We can’t exactly pick up any new ones if we don’t take a look into that place, now can we? Dress yourselves for the part, nothing too bright or out of the norm. And nothing that can identify you. We’ll meet at the auto-shop in two hours. And Danny,” Paul’s pointed look echoed their father’s concern. 

“I know,” the actor nodded without outright stating the answer while in public: he was going in there with at least one means to defend himself. “We’ll see you there.”

As the last rays of light hid behind the horizon, both mechanics readied themselves for a troublesome night. For all the gossip around M&B’s reputation of a raunchy good time, there was an underlying darkness to the bar. Wade performed one last check for the essentials in his 1937 Chevrolet Coupe: fake identification, live rounds and his trusty double-barrel shotgun. This was the car that brought him and Paul to Los Angeles, and it was their getaway. The few dents the chassis had didn’t diminish the sleek shine along its jet-black paint job. It was an old nameless car among thousands on the road, perfect to slip in and out of places. 

“Did you fix the oil issue?” Paul asked, donning a simple charcoal ivy cap that shielded his telltale green eyes. Wade turned around to see the rarest sight: Paul Aristide Richardson looking like the sophisticated Frenchcat he should’ve been in a well-fitted black suit and white shirt.  _ God forbid Frenchie owns a damn tie _ , the ferret remarked, noting that the fellow mechanic even left the first two buttons undone, typical. Was it any wonder that he, out of all the cats in Hollywood, could bang a coroner and make the lady cats swoon? 

“Wow, you actually look like you gave a damn about yourself, not bad,” Wade joked around as he closed the trunk and smirked. “ And yes! Gotta keep my baby up and running.”

“Likewise, you don’t look like you’re the worst date this side of the Rockies,” Paul responded, returning the glib tone. For all their banter, the feline mechanic could admit Wade cleaned up pretty good. A grey suit, tie and a Homburg hat to boot, and the ferret would’ve been a sight for sore eyes on a lonely night, when one was tired of conventional attraction. “Are we ready?” 

Wade replied “Almost,” before offering his best friend a small revolver. Paul shot a disdainful look at the weapon and responded with his own offering: a stiletto switchblade. “Seriously? You’re going with a toothpick?”

“That peashooter’s more trouble than it’s worth, makes too much noise and we can’t have that now can we?” the French cat remarked before they both heard a knock on the door. Hesitant to open their hub to potential busybodies, Paul yelled out, “ _ Mot de passe _ ?” 

“ _C'est moi, Danny, Sawyer_ _est ici aussi_ ,” the familiar voice on the other side of the door was proof enough that it was the pair of actors, waiting for their entrance. 

“Your French’s getting better, bravo,” Paul commended with a grin and a wink, noting just how toned down both cats dressed for the part.  _ Well done, there’s hope for this mess yet. _

Gone were the vivid colors that both Danny and Sawyer wore in their daily lives, and were replaced with clothes that fit into the seedy bar they were going to visit. Sawyer’s frame was covered with an elegant yet nondescript navy blue wrap dress, with matching gloves and veiled pillbox hat. No cat or animal would be caught dead in Magnusson & Bird’s and she did her best to conceal her identity. Meanwhile Danny ditched his usual straw hat and clothes for a black three-piece suit, fitted gloves, and a teardrop trilby hat to hide his recognizable face. Just another patron to a hole-in-the-wall joint, and for a brief moment, he looked just like their father.

“You still have a chance to back out now,” Wade cautioned, “Just let me and Paul do the heavy work…” It was his last offer to let his best friend and his lover walk away and let those used to dirty dealings bring them a sanitized answer.

“We’re doing this,” Danny assured, “whatever it takes.” There was that tenacity to take on the world and face the consequences. And to prove his point, he pulled back his jacket to reveal a holster, loaded and ready to go. He hoped he never had to use it, but might as well be ready for the worst possible outcomes. 

Sawyer answered just as plainly, “I got us into this mess, I’m gonna see it through. Fame be damned.” The way she spoke those last words felt as if  _ her _ fame had come at the cost of Claudette’s life. 

“Then hop on in, we can only sneak around so much before the gossip rags come running,” Wade announced with a thumb’s up. This was going to be an unforgettable night, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reads!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: alcohol consumption, cursing in various languages
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ March 30, 1942 _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ Sometimes I wonder if one of these days everything I’ve worked for will collapse on itself. One day, all three of them will be in the same room, and they will look at me. I can’t choose what they’ll think when they see me, or if they’ll see their competition. I never intended this mess, but I can’t lie to you and say I’m not thrilled about it. That I’m some forbidden fruit to them, and they don’t know who else steals me away when they’re not around. _

_ I am a selfish creature, and to deny myself, my flaws, and pretend I’m a saint is a one-way ticket to loathing myself. And I already do that quite well when I’m alone.  _

Magnusson & Bird’s Bar and Club was a hole in a wall, only identified by the dimly lit sign up front and the massive animal bodyguard posted at the door. Nothing about the place seemed legitimate, even to someone as wide-eyed as Danny. A rhinoceros stood out, scanning every guest that came through M&B’s and taking no chances with any cops. Everyone knew what this place was, and the police never really bothered to poke through the bare minimum facade of being a proper business. 

Wade was the first one in line, choosing to bribe the bouncer with a hundred dollar bill, “Me and my friends want a seat at the Homegrown Revue.” A twenty dollar bill would’ve been plenty for the bodyguard to look away and let the group slide in, but a hundred? Only high-rollers and bedside guests pulled that out around these parts. The smirk on the ferret’s face was enough to imply the latter. “They’re all with me.” 

The bouncer didn’t miss the sole lady in the group, and remarked, lifting her veiled chin, “Feelin’ adventurous, pussycat?” Danny’s eyes widened under the brim of his hat, having stepped inside the bar. A small part of him wanted to do something rash or say something. But he wasn’t about to cause a scene, not with the way Sawyer took control of the situation with a coquettish smile. 

“Oh honey, you have no idea,” Sawyer shot back, voice down to a purr as she broke the unwanted contact and walked past to join her friends. The bar itself was small compared to the bigger dance clubs in Hollywood, with a small alcove for the band and a small stage for performances. The seats were full of animals in both suits and uniforms, murmuring in the comfort of dark anonymity. The lighting was old and yellowing, while the bartender, a red fox with a few noticeable scars on his face, topped off a few drunkards’ glasses for the umpteenth time that night. A small sign read “HOMEGROWN REVUE IN 15 MINUTES”, a cold reminder that the show definitely went on without Claudette.

As the friends settled down, Danny took in every sight he could from their corner and came up with a plan of attack. “I can’t believe you just...gave the bouncer $100,” Paul finally broke the silence, impressed with Wade’s bravado and lack of foresight. It was probably that month’s auto-shop profits but it was worth it just to get through the door without a problem. 

“He’s a small-time crook, _I_ _was_ a small-time crook, I had a gut feeling,” the ferret smugly replied, remembering all the times he pickpocketed random people back in Kokomo. It was all about getting that one extra dollar in the bank, even if he himself didn’t need it. He could’ve easily helped out more at the Parlor, the farmlands, and made his money that way...but it wasn’t _fun_. 

“I’m so glad you decided to smarten up a little,” the Frenchcat quipped right back, “Now you’re interfering with a police investigation. With us.” Smartening up or the very real threat of Wade’s mother, his only family outside of the Richardsons, disowning her only child, both were good reasons to change his tune.

“Speaking of, what’s the plan?” Wade asked the two actors, hoping that Danny had bothered to come up with a plan and not make it up as he went along. That was a troubling trait of his, going headfirst into something and having no back-up plans. Then again, Danny had done plenty of growing up in the time since he moved here. 

“Someone’s gotta talk to the bartender first...and I’m going to investigate Claudette’s dressing room,” Sawyer laid out her idea, catching all three of her fellow guests off-guard.

“...Danny’s recklessness is rubbing off on you,” Paul looked aghast at that idea, “I’m-”

“I’m going with her,” the tabby added, springing to action and keeping up with the idea on his own. “I’m gonna keep an eye out from the bar.”

“You’re not helping, that’s dangerous!” Wade hissed under his breath, “this isn’t amateur hour, guys.” A glance to the side and the ferret spotted a few shady animals. “We’re not the only ones with firearms here.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure no one’s stupid enough to start a gun fight when there’s soldiers around,” Danny retorted, fairly certain in that idea. He did notice one detail as he quickly searched the place: the bar had a noticeable gap between the whiskey selection.  _ Just like Dad said there’d be! _ That was the murder weapon and his earlier uncertainty was cast aside with a triumphant smile.

“You’re wrong, but I’m willing to listen,” Paul pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “why is her dressing room so important?” 

“In her diary, Claudette mentions that her clients would visit her there, to talk before the Revue started. In her last entry, she specifically named a client as Mark, maybe he left something behind the night she was murdered. She wasn’t happy with Mark, something about being in over her head, something about letters…” Sawyer elaborated, her nerves trying to get the better of her. This was a familiar fear of getting caught and suffering dire consequences...

“And why should you be the one to go into the dressing room?” the French cat argued back.

“Because I’m pretty sure if any of  _ you  _ tried to sneak in, you’d get kicked out of the bar,” she even pointed down to prove her stance on the matter. It’d be one thing for a lecherous patron to try and make it to the  _ female  _ dresser, but what’s a curious lady-cat trying to find the bathroom?

“...Fair point...” 

The clock on the wall read that three crucial minutes had passed in their bickering, prompting Danny to whisper to Sawyer to go on ahead, while he headed to the bar. They had to act fast before the Revue started, and before he left, the actor laid out the tasks, “Paul, you ask around the officers if there’s a Private Roland West in their corps. I dunno how you’re gonna do it, but please find that out. Wade, you ask the bouncer if he remembers the last time he saw Claudette alive. Tell him...tell him something believable and get as much information as you can. If anything happens-”

“Raise hell,” Paul finished the sentence, giving his brother a nod and a smirk, “take care of yourselves.” Providing a destructive distraction was his specialty, and easily accomplished given the materials at hand. Wade sighed and swallowed the complimentary glass of water before standing up, “You cats are going to get me killed.”

If both Wade and Paul could commend the actors for something, other than managing to break the monotony of their lives with these sorts of messes, it was their ability to work together and land their marks without looking suspicious. No one was really paying attention to them, not when there was a burlesque show to be had. Both Danny and Sawyer moved about the room as if they were frequent guests, hiding any insecurities with natural movements and tones. Watching the Persian slip away into the back hall was nerve-wracking but Danny made sure his seat at the bar had a vantage point. Anything happened, he believed he’d be able to catch it.

The bartender looked down at his newest customer with a judging gaze, “What’ll be kiddo? Something easy for your liver like a soda?” the tone was palpably mocking, as if this tabby was too young to be in a big-boy club. It was almost enough to get Danny to slip up in his act but he’s dealt with bad first-impressions before in Hollywood.  _ I’ve dealt with worse. In my own family. _

“I was gonna order whiskey,” the actor shrugged, his voice taking on a Southern twang not unlike his father’s, “But since you suggested it, I would like to start off nice an’ easy with some scotch...an’ I see you’re missing that anyways.”

The bartender grimaced a bit as he poured out a glass, “Yeah, haven’t been able to find that damn bottle again...shouldn’t have never lent the thing, the cat was already drunk off his mind.”

_ All right then! The killer was a cat!  _ That was progress and Danny sipped on his drink and internally winced,  _ I’ve had better back in Kokomo. _ “My condolences, must’ve been a good year if you remember it that well.”

“It was…not the only valuable drink we lost that night,” the fox added with what seemed like genuine regret, “You came in a week too late, we lost one of our best cabaret dancers. Would’ve popped your cherry and made you a real tomcat. Sweetest thing too, when she didn’t have the diva airs. Homegrown Revue’s gonna be a little dimmer from now.” By the way the bartender talked, it seemed Claudette had left a somewhat good impression in this place. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Danny consoled, never breaking his accent and selling himself as the good old cat from the Bayou, “My name’s Duvall, just moved to these here parts...figured I’d see what Los Angeles was all about. I was told about this place by my coworkers...what happened?”

“Ray Olmstead and, son, you must be really new,” the fox pointed out, almost exasperated that an animal could be so out of the loop, “She was found murdered behind Mammoth Studios lot, just...tossed aside, like a piece of trash. Police already came here, had to close the place down for a couple of days.”

“Bless ‘em, at least they tried-” ‘Duvall’ was interrupted with a harsh bark of a laugh.

“Take back that blessing, boy, they didn’t do a damn thing,” Ray shot back, “I told them that she had a big fight with someone backstage before the Revue that night. I had Barry the bouncer stay a little longer, just to keep the girls safe…” he caught himself and sighed, “sorry, went off on you.”

Danny could’ve prodded further but his heart told him to back off a little, and simply offered an ear to listen. “Sounds like you needed to get that off your chest. I’m not telling anyone, ain’t my place.”

“You’re a good kid, Duvall.”

Meanwhile, Paul was already attempting to find an empty chair within the squadron clearly out of their base at an inappropriate time and having a bit of unsanctioned fun. From what he could tell from their eager eyes and topped-off drinks, they were the guests of honor for the burlesque show. And none of it sounded delightful for the Richardson cat.  _ I could’ve been chatting up the bartender,  _ the mechanic grumbled in his mind,  _ at least I would’ve gotten free drinks if he played for the right team. _ Soldiers were just not his type, even if they barely stayed in the same base for more than a few years. Whatever convenience came from a lover that traveled the world, they were too orderly, and if Paul were honest, he wasn’t great with someone telling him what to do and how to do it. 

There was a lone Alsatian soldier, looking rather glum in his mostly empty table at the back. Pointed ears folded back, looking down at his drink like an amber colored mirror. Everything about him looked miserable, as if being here brought him pain. Paul didn’t need to read the uniform tag to know that this was Private Roland West, that downtrodden expression spoke more than any words.  _ Claudette made you feel something in those clammy nights _ ,  _ didn’t she? And it wasn’t just the want of a lover... _

“ _ Bonsoir _ ,” Paul greeted, letting his Marseille dialect shine through in his English, “Is this seat taken?”

“Uh,” Roland looked a tad confused that a civilian would just walk up to him, “I...no…” 

“Can’t watch a skin show all alone, or so I’ve known in my homeland,” the mechanic assured jokingly, playing up the French stereotype a little, “Are you all right?” He was clearly inoffensive, no ulterior motives here. How could there be? Roland was right where Danny had dreaded he’d been: in Hollywood, around the murder. That so-called intimate letter his brother read would put him in the same pool of suspects: Roland would’ve been someone close to Claudette, and knew where she worked. It made the unlucky soldier the easy mark to point the finger to, way too easy in Paul’s mind. 

“Yes, sir. Just...not having a great week.”  _ Hard not to think like that, you lost your gal and you’re likely the one the police want to pin her murder on,  _ Paul analyzed ruefully,  _ your week has gotten worse by the day, if not the hour _ . In the cat’s eyes, only one animal had any peace in the state of California and that was Claudette’s murderer. He’d almost offered a night away but poor Roland was still a soldier, he didn’t need another messy layer to his garbage week. “...I lost someone...pretty dear to me,” the soldier added, staring at the half-empty pint glass. 

_ There’s one way to clear him from the suspect list _ , the mechanic thought, thinking on his feet and outstretching a paw for a shake.

“Tell you what? Next round’s on me,” Paul offered along with the gesture, “Should not have to pay a tab in such trying times.” It was the least he could do for the poor private. The soldier was surprised at such kindness and murmured a thanks, shaking Paul’s paw in gratitude. The night might’ve started with the wrong foot, it shouldn’t end like that, especially when the Frenchcat saw what he was seeking out. He wasn’t the killer, he didn’t have any defensive wounds in his forearms. According to Samuel’s report, Claudette had blood under her claws from trying to get rid of her attacker. Some of the guests at the bar were trying to conduct some illicit business in front of everyone. Openly committing a crime while the rest of the witnesses were too drunk or bothered to notice.  _ Smart, launder some money while everyone’s paying attention to the dancers, maybe have a few drinks…no one the wiser. _

Wade wasn’t having similar luck in getting the bouncer to talk like Danny could. He didn’t have the same charisma the actor had, or the lack of shame Paul exhibited. Sometimes the ferret wondered how he ended up being friends with such cats, but those doubts were quickly put aside to the matter at hand. 

“Smoke?” Wade offered the rhinoceros, holding a box full of high quality cigarettes. 

“What do you want, high-roller?” the bouncer growled.

“To offer you a cigarette, but you can go sit on a white-hot poker if you’re going to be a monkey's uncle,” Wade shot back, unafraid of the imposing and glaring animal as he lit his up. His actual thoughts were far filthier,  _ Come mierda entonces. _

“I could break your spine…”

“Yeah you could but you can’t have another murder happening here, now can you?” the mechanic called the bluff, “Business’ down, isn’t it?”

The bouncer was taken aback slightly at this ferret’s arrogance but more so his words. “Are you a cop?!”

Wade chuckled after exhaling a puff of smoke, satisfied that he got the bouncer on his level, “Not with my criminal history, just called me concerned. I work around these parts, technical repairs over at Mammoth Studios...business is down there too with everything that’s happened. Some people are blaming the lack of security-”

“That’s a crock of shi-” the bouncer snapped before settling back down, “Security was fine, the cops don’t know what they’re talking about.”

_ Huh, I never said anything about cop rumors. Maybe I do have some persuasion skills,  _ Wade analyzed before continuing their chat, “It happened in your watch, didn’t it?”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing, now go back inside before I toss you and your friends out,” the bouncer cut Wade off, only to spot a just-crushed cigarette where the pesky guest was standing a moment before. He didn’t need to outright state that Claudette was indeed murdered during his shift, his suddenly stiff body language and defensive retorts spoke volumes.

Sawyer, on the other hand, was pretty sure she managed to sneak into the backstage area without much fuss. With her dancer’s steps, she could walk about anywhere and all people would notice was the fleeting sight of her tail before it disappeared. With her dark outfit, she blended in with the mannequins that littered the halls. She could explore the back with no one ever noticing her.

But even her natural ability to see in the dark made finding Claudette’s old dressing room hard, as every door was either locked or blocked off with junk and old boxes.  _ Where did you get dressed, in a closet?! _ Even Sawyer couldn’t believe that, having seen her friend’s apartment. She probably had her own vanity and everything she could need to be a memorable dancer. 

She managed to stumble into a lavish dressing room by leaning against what she thought was another wall, with hangers lined with a variety of risqué outfits and headpieces. “Jackpot!” she said loud enough to catch someone else’s attention. 

“Who’s there?!” a new male voice called out, as whoever it was fumbled over what Sawyer guessed was a flashlight. She couldn’t pretend to be lost, it was obvious she was trying to trespass into the employees only areas.

_ I’m gonna get caught, I’m gonna get- _

Before Sawyer could finish her rapid-fire thoughts, she was pulled into the room just as the light blinked alive in her direction. What followed was a whirlwind of activity as sets of female paws rushed the cat through the dressing room and hid her behind some of the outfits. 

“It was me, Marty!” a white-tailed ferret lady with wild tresses and a bath robe called out, as if to calm the unseen guard’s nerves, “Don’t worry, we’re safe!” 

“Oh thank God, you’re up in five!” the voice responded, while the troupe focused on their newest guest. It was probably enough to get him back to his usual rounds, security had increased since the murder. 

Aside from the ferret, there was a pheasant already dressed for the performance, a vixen halfway through her corset, a poodle with her outfit but not enough make-up on, and a lioness. And they all glared daggers at their intruder. 

“What the hell are you doing back here, pretty puss?” the lioness growled, reading her claws to strike before the ferret lady stopped her.

“Joanne, we can’t ask right now, we have five minutes to showtime. You-” the ferret hissed back and instantly snapped at Sawyer, showing who was clearly running the show behind the scenes, “You know how to dance and follow marks?”

“Uh, yeah why-” the Persian cat was clearly off guard before her wrap bow was undone, revealing far more underwear than she was comfortable with, “WHOA HEY!”

“Shut up and follow our lead. Bonnie Pea, get her in one of the back-up outfits, the Good Times one, some large fans, and a real hat veil for goodness’ sake, I don’t want a scene,” the head of the troupe barked a command to the pheasant, then to the vixen, “Velma, tell Ray we’re gonna start with the comedy skit first, then the Revue, so tell him to get the hard liquor out. That’ll buy us five more minutes. Constance, you teach our guest here the routine, and if everything goes well, no one will notice we replaced Claudette without telling the guys.”

As neurotic as the ferret sounded, every animal in the room agreed and quickly got on their tasks, prompting Sawyer to explain herself, “I’m here because of Claudette.” She could at least make them understand that she wasn’t trying to audition for the skin show.

“That part was fairly obvious, toots,” the ferret lady snorted as she finished her lipstick, “I’m Elena and frankly, you have... _ cojones _ .” the way she said the word so naturally was clear Spanish was her first language, “So can you really dance? Or did you try and sell me a bridge?”

“...Sing and dance, sweetheart,” Sawyer smirked, knowing a challenge when she heard it. Dropping her dress and hat on the ground, she had no trouble demonstrating what she was capable of. Her confidence dipped when she saw the actual outfit she was supposed to wear. It was certainly...eye-catching, enough for her eyebrows to shoot up to her hair. She could hear the conniption the Hays Board would have if they saw her in that get-up.

“What’s the matter? Afraid of showing a little leg?” Elena taunted, testing her guest’s moxie. If she came this far, she had better commit to the whole she-bang.

“Not at all!” the actress replied, lying through her teeth as she slipped the stockings on and started fitting herself into the tight corset.  _ Well, Danny and the others are gonna get one heck of a show tonight...I really hope no one from Glitzy’s show is here, or Mammoth Studios is gonna experience another murder in the same week: my career. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reads and kudos!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: alcohol consumption, references to sex work, some cursing
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

Danny was worried, as soon as he checked his pocket watch, and acknowledged that it had been way too long since he last saw Sawyer. She was supposed to take a peek and then come out...He glanced towards Paul, wordlessly asking if he had seen her with nervous eyes. The cream-colored tabby only shook his head slightly as soon as Roland looked away, growing concerned at their missing friend. Danny then turned to Wade, who mirrored Paul’s reaction. They all thought the same thing:  _ Had she gotten caught? Was she hurt?! _

_ I shouldn’t have taken her with us, _ the actor began to panic before a recorded fanfare announced the start of the main event. Everyone present turned their heads and some of the corps began to whistle and holler. “Gentlemen of all sorts!” a pheasant lady announced in a melodious song, “It’s that time of the night, where you sit back and raise your glasses for a star-spangled salute, it’s time for the Homegrown Revue!” The curtains drew back and a line of five dancers kicked their legs up in a perfect synchronized can-can routine, raising everyone’s blood pressure to a pitch.

Taking advantage of the growing excitement, Danny slipped out of the bar while Paul excused himself for a second. “I’ll be right back…” he assured Roland, “Nature calls.” Wade was the last to join the brothers, having been momentarily distracted by the show.

“You were looking weren’t you?!” Paul hissed at his friend, aghast that Wade would be so lewd in the midst of a murder case. 

“Frenchie, look at those legs!” the ferret didn’t bother hiding that he was indeed enjoying the show, “Of course I’m looking!”

“Well, good to know your eyes are working because surprise, Sawyer’s nowhere to be found in a bar full of soldiers and mobsters!” the French cat scolded while Danny frantically kept searching among the crowd for any signs of his lover. 

“WAIT SHE’S GONE!?” Wade practically yelled out, drowned in the hollering while he spun to ask, “What happened? I thought she was with Danny!”

“I don’t know! She was going into the dressing rooms and then-” Danny’s words fell along with his jaw as he managed to get a better view of the Revue’s lineup. He recognized that pair of white-furred legs and fluffy tail anywhere, kicking in step and flaunting around. All he could let out was a tiny, “Found her.”

Paul snapped, “Where? Where could she have gone?” before Wade grabbed his face by the cheeks and turned his head towards the stage. Right here, among the dancers was Sawyer, doing her damnedest to keep up with the others, and making the audience cry for more striptease.

“...Uh, at least she’s putting on a great show,” the ferret immediately regretted saying those words, as he realized that Danny inherited his father’s murderous glare and aimed it right at him. But it was in that pause that Paul saw right through his brother’s embarrassment and smirked. He always wondered if his sibling, the rising star, had his own secrets.

“Not the time, we’ll talk about this later,” Danny pointed out, knowing that smirk anywhere and smacking his forehead with his paw. This was already mortifying enough, no need to rub it any further. 

“No need, you said it all...shall we get out of here now, or wait until she’s done?” the French cat suggested, unable to break the curl on his lips. He suspected the two actors were far more intimate than they let the press know, perfect material for ribbing his older brother later. 

“I...suppose we’ll have to wait,” Danny responded, uncomfortable with Sawyer being any level of unsafe, but the consequences of breaking up the show far and causing a scene outweighed any gallant attempt. He wasn’t Errol Flynn and neither cat wanted to be found out and dragged through the coals for interfering with an active murder case. And he hated himself for thinking so pragmatically. All he could do was watch and keep an eye out for any frisky patrons. Paul understood the message and returned to Roland’s table, pretending to holler along with the rest of the squad. Wade, on the other hand, was definitely not pretending, watching the show with wanton delight, if doing his best to avoid looking at the one cat in the line-up.

By the time the first intermission was called, Sawyer made her way to the only vacant vanity and searched around its many drawers. She was looking for a very specific set of letters Claudette mentioned in her diary, one rather recent entry in particular…

_ April 8, 1942 _

_ Dear Diary,  _

_ Tonight was a disaster! I couldn’t keep my head on straight, I couldn’t land my marks, even Elena and Barry asked what was wrong...all I could think of was the letters Mark sent me. All those times he told me he loved me, all those gifts! And it was all a goddamn lie. I wanted to destroy them, I didn’t want them anywhere near my place! I held them up to my fireplace, hoping to see everything we had go up in flames. I decided against it, momma didn’t raise a fool. I’m gonna keep them at M&B’s from now on. If things go pear-shaped, I know I have proof and he won’t know where they are.  _

_ I should’ve taken Quentin’s offer...it wasn’t much but he actually does care about me. I just couldn’t see myself as this perfect housewife after being so worldly. His heart’s in the right place but I couldn’t have a normal love life he wanted, like Sawyer. Well, at least my mess isn’t fresh fodder for the rags. _

_ Maybe I should’ve taken her up for lunch when she asked me two years ago. Then again, how do you tell your childhood best friend, “So glad you made it! I’m dancing nearly topless now!”? Or my personal favorite, “I’m one of the main homewrecking squeezes for a mobster”? You don’t, you just hope and pray that we see each other in the supermarket, and pretend that you’re not the easiest ride in all of Los Angeles. _

Sawyer’s heart sank whenever she remembered those last words in that entry, each syllable a piercing needle.  _ You were nothing of the sort _ , she thought, hoping that Claudette, wherever she was, would hear her.  _ We’re both young and stupid...you for taking everything on, and me for following your tracks.  _

“Holy moly, you weren’t kidding!” Elena laughed, more than happy to eat her own words and congratulate the stranger, “You look like a natural out there!” The celebration soured as soon as the dancer caught Sawyer rummaging Claudette’s vanity. “I take it you’re not sticking around for the second act?”

“Huh?” The actress halted her search and faced the troupe, none of them looking very pleased with her actions. She could tell them what was going on and just get the night over with...but she couldn’t deny the absolute thrill of performing such a risqué routine. All the while  _ Danny _ was in the audience. She wondered if he liked the show at all. “Well, what’s the second act?”

Bonnie Pea, the pheasant, stated without much consideration for context, “We do a bit of a meet and greet with some of the guests! It’s why our Revue’s better than-”

“Bonnie, shush!” Elena growled, “She’s not becoming part of the group, she’s just here for Claudette.”

For some reason, this was the straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s back and a certain cat had enough. “If you’re going to give me attitude, then yeah, I’m only here for Claudette,” Sawyer snapped back, tired of the way Elena had been treating her all night. “I’m here to find out what happened to her and get her killer to justice. You can either help me, or-”

“Or what?” Joanne didn’t bother to hide her disdain, having been stopped earlier by Elena from kicking the intruder out. Everything about this Persian cat felt off for her, and everyone was on high alert, even if they pretended otherwise for their audience.

“Or I’ll just find another lead. I would’ve preferred having her coworkers help me but...I understand if you don’t trust me. Right now, I don’t care. I’m looking for a stack of letters she kept in-”

The mention of the letters lit something in the dancers’ heads, causing their eyes to widen and causing the lioness to back down in shock. Those letters were probably the last things Claudette left behind before her murder. None of them knew what they held in their pages but it was probably enough to kill her for them. Claudette never told a soul about them, opting instead to trust her friends. No one outside this room knew about them, so how did a strange cat from out of the blue know where to find them? Was she with the police? Or worse...

“...You’re not with Mark or Kyle are you?” Velma the vixen asked, clearly concerned about these two names. She wasn’t having a mess in her and her husband’s bar, no sir. They were still recovering from Claudette’s untimely and violent demise

“No...are they MS and KP?” Sawyer was getting animated, could  _ they _ know who the three gift-givers’ names were? Could Elena and her friends hold the key to the diary’s contents? 

“Yeah, Mark Speedway and Kyle Patterson,” Elena sighed, having realized that whoever this Persian cat was, she was the real deal, “those were some of the guys she was seeing before she got killed.” 

_ I knew coming here was a great idea,  _ the actress celebrated internally, she could just track these two names down and somehow find a way to incriminate them. Her enthusiasm took a major hit when she actually processed the names she just heard. Patterson was a pretty innocuous name but  _ Speedway _ ?

“...Those aren’t their real names, aren’t they?”

“Nope.” 

Sawyer’s face couldn’t hide the disappointment, shoulders slouching as she realized that all this time, she was chasing three names that didn’t exist in any phone book. In a moment of raw pain, she covered her eyes and quietly sobbed, not caring if the dancers saw. All this humiliation was for nothing.  _ God _ **_dammit_ ** , the rare curse word slipped out, frustrated that the most promising lead had turned out to be another dead-end.

Without hesitation, Elena put a paw on Sawyer’s knee and sat beside her, showing that she understood what the actress was going through, “Honey, you should’ve known what we do here, we can’t ask for names. We can only get whatever the client tells us, no one’s so dumb as to give us their real names. If we did know...don’t you think we would’ve told the police?” It was a hard pill to swallow but Sawyer conceded: they probably would’ve told the police everything they knew. 

“...I know where the letters are,” out of the blue, Constance blurted out, shocking every dancer into silence. The poodle silently made her way towards her vanity and opened a drawer. Pulling back a slab of wood, a false bottom no doubt, she took out a bundle of papers and silently handed them to Sawyer. “When I heard Claudette was murdered, I had a feeling it would be because of what was in these. I...panicked.”

“Thank you.”  _ Understandable, who knows what Claudette was hiding all along? _ The Persian couldn’t help relate to the confusion and accepted the documents without question. It was time to come clean with the ladies. But first, a proper olive branch, “Claudette’s funeral is taking place this Saturday and Sunday. You’re all invited if you want to come by.”

“You don’t want our lot there, Pussycat,” Joanne spat out, rueful that in her overwhelmed state, she might’ve scared off one of the few in Hollywood that bothered to care about their mutual friend. “Who knows what the funeral planner would think of us, just showing up?”

“Well, given that you’re talking to the planner, I don’t have a problem,” Sawyer assured, giving away a little more of her hand and letting the gears run in their heads. From her original pillbox hat, she took out a slip of cotton paper, with the time and place written in solid black ink and handed it to Elena. 

The ferret lady studied the invitation and frowned, “You’re covering everything?...What’s your name?” It didn’t make sense that an animal could make this much money in Hollywood without being mob or being born rich. 

“Sawyer,” the Persian replied, keeping her surname a secret as she donned her veiled hat. Granted, it wasn’t hard to make the connection between her and the movie posters hung in theaters, but she was going to follow through with the night, and finish the Revue with the group. “So, do we head out now or wait for the drinks to get served?”

Elena’s expression was priceless as Sawyer walked out, letters in her costume, and a little wink as she joined Bonnie Pea and Velma to the tables. She knew that name from somewhere, it wasn’t a common lady name, and why did  _ Singing in the Rain  _ come to mind?  _ Wait, as in  _ **_Sawyer McDermid the movie star!?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reads and kudos!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: references to sex work, cursing in Spanish and French, gun violence, blood, descriptions of knife-based violence
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ August 28, 1942 _

_ Claudette, _

_ You’re avoiding me, and I don’t know why. What you saw isn’t what you thought it was. You’re not answering my calls, so I’m sending this letter. I need to see you. _

_ \- MS _

Sawyer had no plans on getting too friendly with M&B’s patrons, not when she had one cat in mind. The rowdy 86th Corps provided the best cover she could conceive on such short notice, as Bonnie Pea, and Constance gave them an exclusive tabletop show. She could spot Wade over at a table, making lovey-dovey eyes at a just-arrived Elena while Paul was chatting up a soldier, actually making the dog laugh.  _ Oh good, those two are behaving, for now. _ Her target was going to be a country cat who was sitting down at the bar, a half-full glass up, and whose green eyes met hers. If she hadn’t known Danny as well as she did, she would’ve found him to be downright dashing, having her imagine that this is how his father looked when he was that age. There was an old-fashioned charm about him, even as he pretended to not know her, thrilling her in ways she wouldn't have thought about two years ago. 

For this one time, they could pretend to be animals they weren’t: she was a dancer and he was the guest with no past, only the present. They looked at each other with such intensity, that not a single word was exchanged. She merely held out her paw, prompting the bartender to chuckle and congratulate Danny, “Well, lucky you Duvall, guess you caught yourself a fine hostess.” 

“That I have,” Danny’s lips curled into a smile as he accepted the invitation to the more private tables, his voice down to a drawl that reminded Sawyer of a smooth glass of bourbon. It was so unfair to not kiss him right there, and more so with the clues she had. As they made their way through the hall, a pair of eyes locked onto them, and their owner went to the main door to get a smoke. This hadn’t gone completely unnoticed by both actors, and they were back on edge. 

Sawyer whispered, “We’re being watched,” trying her damnedest to not be awkward in this situation. She was here, dressed in a ridiculous cabaret outfit with two stacks of letters stuffed in the corset and no way to let Danny have them without things getting extremely uncomfortable in public. 

“I noticed,” Danny’s voice resumed his usual candor and he let out a subtle sigh, “I’m sorry, I...looked. During the show.” He was mortified that he saw her performance, in front of everyone, and what’s more? He liked it. “You did great out there.”

Sawyer’s eyes widened and she swallowed down: so her wildest thoughts did come true. “At least you can’t call me rusty this time.”  _ This night could not be any more awkward _ , she thought before having an idea. The girls knew who she was in a sense, and given that some of them were taking guests to the back rooms behind some heavy dark-blue curtains…

“We should get a room,” Danny was the one who suggested the same idea Sawyer had in mind, prompting her to change course to that very hallway. With one empty room left, the two slipped inside, no doubt under the watchful gaze of their fellow “investigators”. At least with a room, he could take better aim than a roughhousing bar, without causing much damage. The room itself was sparsely lit, only the toned-down glow of gas lights, while a small bed and some dirty magazines dotted the spartan decor. This room had a purpose and it wasn’t for sleeping in the traditional sense, compounded only with the sounds from next door. 

“Oh that’s great,” Sawyer groaned, mortified that this was what this entire journey had culminated into. Claudette herself probably used a room like this with either of those three dates, and provoked those same noises from them. “I would’ve much rather do this in our own bed.” She injected some humor into the situation from the only source she knew how: sarcasm. 

“Me too, more comfortable too, and not so much pretending,” Danny replied, causing her to laugh for the first time in the entire night. The two looked at each other and continued their bursts of laughter, noting just how ridiculous it all was. Both cats laid down and let their foreheads touch for a second.

“We’re so out of our league...but I found Claudette’s letters, just like her diary said I would’ve if we came here,” the Persian whispered as she reached down to her corset, catching Danny cover his eyes with his paws. “Wait, you’re really not gonna…”

The tabby shook his head, being the polite cat that he always had been. It was one of his most endearing traits, and Sawyer wanted to poke fun at this in the most gentle way possible. “This isn’t anything you haven’t already seen, mister.” She wasn’t about to make him feel inadequate or disrespectful but there was no shame in admitting their bed was shared. 

“And I wasn’t joking when I said I’d much rather do this in your place,” Danny added before he had his self-imposed blinders removed by a smiling Sawyer.

“I have to give you these letters, one way or another,” she stated plainly, paying no mind to the fact that her boyfriend, no, her  _ lover _ , saw her pull out the two halves of the stack from their hiding place and handed them over. There was nothing to hide anymore, given the show she put on, “But I do appreciate your discretion... _ Duvall. _ ”

“I had to come up with something, my grandpa’s name came to mind,” the actor murmured, finally sitting up and putting them in his suit’s breast pocket before caressing her face, “Shall we head out?” His heart was still racing from the excitement the night had brought them all. His blood ran hot just thinking about how forbidden this was. 

“Let’s...but first,” Sawyer responded before she stole a kiss from Danny, making him as red as the kitchy hearts painted on the walls. No matter what happened tonight, it was all worth it. She then messed up his head, followed by undoing his tie and jacket, “Gotta look like I took you to the moon and back.”

As the two cats stepped out of the room, they were careful not to be seen by their stalker, and pretended a carnal transaction took place so as to not raise suspicion. The pair of eyes that followed them seemed to have disappeared into the crowds, giving Sawyer a misplaced sense of relief. She would’ve made it all the way through to the dressing room and watch Danny settle back in the bar had she not spotted the telltale shine of a gun barrel from the farthest corner of the bar. But even from where she stood, she could tell that it wasn’t aimed at her but…

“ELENA, GET DOWN!” she yelled, alerting the ferret lady to drop to the floor, just as a flash of light and a loud BANG echoed the bar. The bullet flew past the dancer and struck the nearest wall, prompting Wade to pull her under the table without hesitation. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, making sure the fellow ferret was safe. While he would’ve preferred to have his shotgun on hand, his pocket pistol would have to do for now. He could roughly position who he believed the shooter was following the trail, but all he managed to catch was the passing flutter of a trench coat, as if they managed to get away from the discord they sparked. He couldn’t keep track of them now, not with the gangsters raising their weapons and aiming them at the crowd.

“I’m fine…” Elena responded, shaken but doing her best to stay calm. If she hadn’t been warned, she could’ve gotten one nasty ending to her night. “What are you doing?!”

“I don’t know yet, but not dying sounds good to me! I need to find my friends...Stay here,” Wade whispered then smirked, “How about we talk more tomorrow?”

Elena’s face winced in disbelief, was this animal being serious right now? Flirting during  _ this  _ time? “Shoot-out first, you can hit on me later!” She had to make sure her friends were safe too. 

Chaos spread like wildfire as the shooter fired two more shots and disappeared into the night. They kickstarted a maelstrom of a reaction from the mobsters. They withdrew their own guns and fired them wildly while the 86th Regiment took cover and drew their own weapons. This was turning ugly fast, and with suspicious timing.

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!” one of the thugs commanded, prompting Paul to hiss a “ _ merde _ ” under his breath as he sneaked around the suddenly aggressive collective. As soon as he heard Sawyer yell, he slipped under the tables, silently making his way towards a more favorable vantage point, behind one of the gunners, a mountain lion almost twice his size and a scar to the temple. What’s more, this mobster was aiming his gun at Roland’s forehead, catching the unlucky soldier by surprise as he tried to get his service gun out.  _ Oh no, that won’t do. The poor dog’s already had a horrible week... _

Without so much as a whisper, Paul covered the unfortunate thug’s mouth with a paw, and drew a fresh new line across the throat, causing a spray of blood to cover Pvt. West’s horrified face. He’d seen war deaths but he had never seen such a terrifyingly efficient kill away from combat. As soon as the mobster dropped dead, the mechanic ordered as he geared up for the next goon to take down, “Go with your regiment, and get out through the front door, should be open.”

“I didn’t catch your name,” Roland asked, still trying to come back from what he had just witnessed. Throughout the night, this cat had kept him company, made small talk and did his best to make him smile through his grief. And it was now that he realized that he had never given his name.

“Paul, now, go!” the cat snapped, and shoved the soldier into his fellow corps members,  _ Idiot’s gonna get shot! _ A zipping bullet grazed Paul’s shoulder, earning him a fresh gash and a hiss. “ _ QUEL CONNARD- Fils de putain _ shot me! GO YOU IDIOT.” He couldn’t keep track of the shellshocked private, not when his brother and his best friends were in danger. Spotting a quick glimpse of Danny’s tail, Paul kicked the dead gunner’s weapon, calling it “Back-up!” 

Danny wasn’t too far behind from where his brother was, taking out his gun and firing three shots at the goons’ knees before grabbing the kicked gun. Each of his shots landed their mark, causing three screams of red-hot agony, making them collapse and drag themselves out of the mess to live another day. He could practically hear his father berate him for not finishing them off but he wasn’t one for the violent delights. Except when it came to protecting those he loved…Then he and Wade saw that bullet’s red path along his brother’s shoulder. 

Wade’s earlier flirting demeanor ceased, suddenly focused on his best friend’s wound. It was so much more common for Wade to get hurt, but not Paul, a pattern that went all the way back from when all three of them played in the Richardson farm. Wade and Danny never allowed anything or anyone to hurt the once-sickly cat, earning themselves black-eyes, bruised tails, and in Wade’s case, spending a day in detention every two weeks during an entire school semester. Paul wasn’t left in the dust with regards to his own protective streak, but even at a young age, he knew better than to take a beating. He still remembered that solemn vow the three took as kittens under a bright harvest moon, holding their red-stained paws together in those endless fields:  _ Nothing will ever hurt us, we’ll always have each other’s back _ . They were all grown up now, and that promise echoed in the ferret’s skull, watching as Paul staggered down for cover.

Every thought in Wade’s mind became one loud order,  _ Kill the son of a bitch who hurt Frenchie. _ As if by primal instinct, he seized the nearest weapon, a revolver, and unloaded the entire magazine towards the rapidly outmatched group, “ _ ¡A MORIR, CABRONES!”  _ he called out, cackling and grabbing another weapon, forcing the goons to leave their injured and their one dead comrade behind. The display of force was so out of the blue, all for a friend in need...it made Paul’s face turn a bit pink. He’d never seen the ferret go ballistic like this, bringing back certain feelings that he’d done his best to taper down.

While Wade lost his mind for that moment, Danny spotted Sawyer’s tail from under one of the tables, and made his way over to her side to quickly give her a look-over. “A-Are you okay?” She didn’t look injured but she did look shaken at the cacophony of noise and threats.

“I’m okay...doing better than Paul right now,” she assured, watching someone she knew as a professional lout become so violent. “What’s wrong with Wade?”

Danny responded, “Long story, I’ll tell you when we get to the car,” trying to keep his own wits about him as the situation began to de-escalate. It took a lot of willpower to not retaliate and endanger his loved ones as well for the sake of getting even. “We’re gonna have to call Dad to clean that dead guy up...”  _ The parlor’s not gonna like this _ , he thought while he peeked out of their cover, and shielded Sawyer with his own body. 

As Wade’s last bullet fired out of the barrel, he hadn’t caught a mortally injured mobster behind him, a dog with a snarl to match his own murderous desire. He struggled in lifting his gun to aim at the mechanic’s head, furious at the audacity of some low-life nobody to fire at his crew. He would never have the chance as his head and body snapped back to the floor. Caught mid-shot, his forehead now sheathed a stiletto knife, putting him out of his misery.

“You stupid Spaniard! You had the upper hand and I still had to protect you!” Paul spat out, letting out a pained gasp from his hiding spot. Using his injured arm to throw the blade had breached the wound even further and blood seeped into his shirt and jacket. As the dust settled down, the injured were dragged out by the 86th Corps, while two bodies lay dead in the wake.

“Is everyone all right?” Ray called out, lifting his head from behind the bar table. Velma was trembling when she finally removed herself from her husband’s shielding embrace. Danny could tell, the two foxes cared for each other, enough to lay down their lives to keep the other safe.

_ It’s that crazy kind of love, don’t I know it _ , he mused, acknowledging that he did the same for Sawyer just now and two years ago. And in a way, the same kind of love he saw Wade unleash to keep his brother safe. 

“Yeah...save for those two,” Bonnie Pea’s melodious voice broke the silence by stating the obvious. “The police will be coming at any minute!” And wherever the police went in Hollywood, Glitzy’s army of yellow journalists were sure to follow. 

“We have to get out of here,” the orange tabby muttered, helping his girlfriend off the floor and letting Wade cool off. “Paul, you think you can go to the hospital?” Danny would’ve preferred to have his sibling given proper care but these were extraordinary circumstances

“I’ll be fine, I might need the care of Miss Legs Los Angeles over there before I make any more stupid choices,” Paul assured before Sawyer slapped the fresh gash. “WHY WOULD YOU-”

“Call me that name again,” the Persian cat glared, ready to inflict a lot more pain while making Wade laugh and help him get back on his feet. The night was hard on everyone, no need to make it worse with more humiliation. But before any of the quartet’s plan could come to fruition, they had to face the staff at M&B’s, particularly an enraged bouncer and a livid bartender.

“Who the hell you think you are-”

“Barry wait!” Elena cut the rhinoceros off, calling the attention back to the matter at hand, “I can’t explain it right now but you gotta trust me, they’re here to help...with Claudette’s murder.” Her expression was pained, as if it took every bit of credibility to convince the bouncers to not rip the group apart for this mess. 

“Wait, this was all because of her?!” Barry asked, out of the loop and still seething. “Now we have three dead animals tied to the bar!”

Thinking on his feet, Danny immediately offered, “Not quite if we play our dealt hands right...but you have to let us help you.” He was putting together every connection he could use at that moment and glanced at his injured brother with a hopeful expression. Words didn’t need to be exchanged as Paul recognized the question being asked.

“I’ll definitely be pushing the limits with those nightly rendezvous but I’ll see what I can manage,” the French cat sighed out, knowing that Alfred was not going to be happy with this mess. The leverage he had on the coroner was strong but to alter the inevitable reports was going to need one hell of a favor. “I’ll try to make sure they’re taken to the parlor dear old father’s working in.” It was all extremely dirty but some hard decisions needed to be done. 

Ray was still cautious to allow these strangers any leeway into his bar, as he had to ask, “Are you…”

“No, not at all,” Danny responded with a heavy heart, he had to assure them this wasn’t a turf war of sorts, “Just trying to figure out what happened to Claudette, through any means necessary. I wish we could be more open but right now, we need to get out of here.” All four of them were asking the staff to take a leap of faith with their methods and their ends.

It took Ray a second before he barked out “Take the back exit, and if I see you again, I expect answers from you lot...is that clear, Duvall?”

With an earnest nod, the orange tabby nodded and let Sawyer and Wade lead the way to their getaway car. But not before giving the fox a proper response before their escape, “We’ll be in touch, and thank you.”

Danny wasn’t used to how dirty Hollywood could be, but every time that facet showed itself, he had to adapt. As Wade drove them all out of the crime scene, the actor could see the two bouncers destroy the Coup’s tire tracks while Elena and the other dancers watched them disappear into the night. The police were bound to come along soon, and they needed to get their story straight. For all their hard work, the quartet made off with the first piece of evidence Claudette’s diary led them to: her letters to what they believed was her killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reads and kudos!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: allusions to sex work in Claudette's letters
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ June 24, 1938 _

_ To the Lady in Red, _

_ You’re wanted, but I suppose I must’ve scared you off the last time you saw me. I desire you more than any other dancer in all the bars I’ve cruised around. But maybe you’re afraid of me, of who I am. Of the things you’ve witnessed. Come to the back of M&B’s and I’ll explain it all.  _

_ \- KP _

“Easy on the undressing, would you?!” Paul screeched, tail puffed up in a defensive mood, while Sawyer rolled her eyes and continued to peel his clothes off, slowly but surely. Danny would immediately reprimand his little brother whenever he heard French curses being spoken while going in and out of the room with first aid items. Wade collapsed on the couch while the impromptu stitching took place in the bedroom, resting off the rampage he unleashed on the thugs that night. With the adrenaline rush finally gone, everyone was exhausted but Sawyer knew that wound needed immediate first aid. Even if her “patient” was being extra troublesome.

“Stop whining, you big kitten,” she scolded as the jacket was tossed to the floor, “Now take your shirt off while Danny gets more clean towels.” She didn’t mind doing this, her delicate paws were better suited to this labor. The gash was nasty looking but nothing she couldn’t patch up with some well-placed bandages and a few stitches.

The mechanic cat muttered under his breath, trying to get a rise out of Sawyer, “I hope you have something far more seductive in mind when you call my brother into this room.” She knew this little game quite well as a way to keep her at arms’ length, a cat knows another cat’s means of being a jerk. 

“‘Come to bed’ usually does the trick,” she responded truthfully, batting the snark out while she wiped the wound clean of caked-on blood with a dry gauze. She was candid with Paul in ways that she couldn’t be with either Wade or even Tilly, simply by being himself. She had nothing to hide, “You had a blushing virginal flower look about you back there, did Wade’s rampage take your breath away?” 

The glare Paul shot at Sawyer would’ve made lesser animals and even some humans fear for their lives, only to be met by her smirk. She wasn’t afraid of him either, putting her on Danny’s level, for better or worse. Before he could insult her father’s sleeping habits, she pressed the alcohol gauze onto the raw flesh, causing him to rattle off in a rapid whisper, “MOTHER OF-I didn’t expect the idiot to react in such a way!” He took a deep breath and murmured “If I wanted to be tortured for information, I’d ask for it!”

“Really? You didn’t expect your best friend to show how much he cares about you?” now that Sawyer found it hard to believe. “You guys work together, you drink together...I wouldn’t be surprised if you shared an apartment.” For the two years she knew the ferret and the cat from Kokomo, they were inseparable. It clicked in Sawyer’s mind, “Oh.”

Paul answered with a rueful expression, “...we have our own apartments and he plays exclusively for the cheerleaders.”

“And you?”

“I’m not as picky...never mind,” the tabby sighed out, eyes glued to the floor as Sawyer began to thread the needle, “whatever you think is going on between us...It’s not,” he continued, “Not as far as I know. Not now...not ever... I’ve long made my peace with it.”

Whatever pain the bullet graze caused in Paul, it was nothing like being agonizingly aware that his feelings were unrequited. He felt as Sawyer ever so slightly lessened her pressure on his back, her face dropped from her previous smirk to a forlorn gaze. He remembered Sawyer’s wit being able to pick up on the matter and swearing to secrecy in an attempt to never challenge what was already there. How could she know the years he’d yearned for something more but hiding it, scared of how it would change things with Wade...and Danny…? How could he face his brother if he slept with their mutual best friend? Paul didn’t care what Sammy Lee, Monroe or Marie thought, they weren’t his peers, as the first two were older and Marie was still too young to understand what these feelings were. Danny had always been there for as long as Paul remembered, always close and ready to make him smile. 

“Sorry...I shouldn’t have-” Sawyer tried to apologize for being so intrusive. That was a bad call to make, especially after such a stressful night.

“I said I made my peace with it,” Paul’s tone became a little forceful, trying to stomp down any discussion on the matter. He would rather keep what was the most stable relationship outside of family than throw it all away in a desperate dream. “I’m-”

Both cats became silent as the door creaked open, imparting some outside light while a familiar form cast his shadow. Looking like roadkill (and probably feeling like so) was Wade, whose bleary eyes showed concern over his injured friend. In his daze, he only heard Paul and Sawyer talking but the words were nonsense to his tired brain.

“Hey,” the ferret murmured, already apologizing to the two, “Sorry I heard you guys talking and-” His exhaustion disappeared as soon as he saw Paul’s injury, still halfway closed with clean, if slightly uneven, stitches. “Paul, that looks…” he hesitantly reached out to touch the wound before pulling back. It was a subtle gesture, enough that Sawyer stepped aside, allowing the two friends to interact with each other without interrupting them.

“I’m fine, don’t make this a bigger deal than what it is,” the mechanic harrumphed, doing his best to pretend as if the earlier conversation hadn’t happened. “I thought you were sleeping.” 

“You were screeching like a dying cat, and I’m pretty sure Danny isn’t the one with the gaping wound,” Wade shot back, paws on his hips now much more relaxed, before turning to Sawyer, “He’s a danger to everyone around him, I tell ya.”

“You were the one who nearly got shot because you were too busy trying to make the shooters into walking Swiss cheese...” which prompted Paul to ask, “Why  _ did _ you do that?”

Wade thought about the question, and in his sleep-addled mind, what came out of his mouth was pure gold, “Well, if anyone’s gonna do you Frenchie, it had better be me.” Thinking he had said something profound and yet snappy, he then turned around, and said to an extremely amused Danny, “I’m gonna go sleep on your couch, Sawyer, I’m tired as all hell, all right? Good night Hollywood and Miss Legs LA.”

None of the cats made a sound as Wade drifted back to his couch and dropped like a rock back to sleep. Given how violent the night had gone, and how lurid the case had become, it was a welcomed break to pretend everything was normal. As normal as it could be, with a mortified Paul looking at his brother and his girlfriend with a blush he didn’t think was possible for a cat. 

It was Danny who broke the ice with an earnest grin on his face, “We have a spare couch in the study-” If Paul had any fears about how his dear sibling would have reacted if Wade had meant what he clearly bungled up, they all disappeared with that one expression. Or maybe he was too hopeful about it, maybe Danny was being mocking.  _ I think I just insulted my brother’s integrity…he wouldn’t mock anyone just because he felt like it,  _ Paul thought among the scrambled sparks going off in his brain. Danny was terribly transparent, he hid no ill will or misunderstanding, not unless he was pulling off a gambit on someone who thought he was too naive or stupid. 

“That’ll be perfect,  _ merci, _ ” the cream-colored tabby managed to regain his French accent with how quickly he spoke. “Sawyer, _ s'il vous plaît _ , may we finish?” 

“All done, don’t worry about it, just gonna change the bandages as soon as we wake up,” she offered, practically trembling from containing her laughter. All this time, she thought Paul Aristide Richardson couldn’t be surprised, boy was she wrong. As soon as Paul slammed the door shut behind him, she doubled over in laughter, confusing her lover for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

Sawyer paused before she responded, “I’m fine, I’m just…” She didn’t want to reveal anything the younger Richardson trusted her to keep under wraps, so she instead tested the waters with something innocuous, “Wade probably thought he was being a smooth operator when he said that.”

“Knowing how much a lout he can be, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually meant it,” Danny responded with a shrug to her bewilderment, “I’m not blind, you know? I’ve known those two all my life, Wade’s just more...honest when he’s drunk or sleepy.” It made sense, the three grew up together, and they knew each other better than they let on.

“Speaking of...aren’t you tired?” the Persian inquired as she washed her paws in the nearby bathroom, “You were running around too.” It was her only chance to properly tend to Danny before they both fell asleep and had to deal with the incoming consequences of their actions. Both actors pushed their ability to blend into the environment but Ray was bound to let something slip. And yet, the worry itself wasn’t so present, not when Sawyer experienced the camaraderie the dancers had with each other and for Claudette. 

“I dunno yet,” Danny murmured, scratching the back of his head and letting out a telltale yawn as he made his way to the bed, “I guess I wanna hear you read her diary before we go to sleep.” 

Sawyer gave him an arched eyebrow and a quip, “I’m pretty sure you can read on your own, mister.” 

“Last I checked, that diary was sent to  _ you _ , not me, or anyone else,” the tabby replied, showing his ever polite nature, “She trusted you with it, you should be the only one who gets to-”

“Danny, I know what you’re trying to do but…” Sawyer cut him off with a sad look about her golden eyes, “Claudette’s gone. I can’t pretend like she’ll object if I showed you her diary. Much less the police, though I can’t imagine they’d have the understanding to see through the affairs.” That hurt the most about reading those pages: that Claudette could only trust this notebook to keep her secrets and had to endure her last few days in agonizing silence.

To prove the point, Sawyer handed Danny a single piece of paper. It showed signs of being folded many times over, as well as tears that fell and dried up, dispersing the ink a little. It reminded her about her lover’s Hollywood checklist, written hastily before being stuffed into the package. As Danny read the letter, he wished he could’ve heard Claudette’s voice just as clearly as Sawyer did when her eyes darted on every word,

_ October 3, 1942, _

_ Dear Sawyer,  _

_ I know we haven’t talked to each other in almost five years. I don’t know if this package will get to you on time. Are you still living in that brookstone? Can you see the Cecil Hotel from where you are? Does Hollywood shine brighter now? When I heard about what happened at Grosman’s, I couldn’t believe it: one of us made it. We always thought Maude would’ve made it first, she’s so beautiful. But I’m glad it was you. Woolie knew you had what it took. A part of me wanted to resent you, to envy you, smiling as you took a bow for the world to see, but it never came through. I made my bed, and I laid in it, deliciously. But the devil’s in the details and my tab’s coming up. _

_ I’m sending you my diary for a reason. I suspect that once it gets to your paws, I’ll either be dead or missing. I don’t know what you’ll do with this diary, but I beg you, please don’t let me be forgotten. Please tell my mom and dad that I love them and I want them to have everything. I know I’m not taking any of it where I’m going. And for you, I want you to know this: _

_ I love you Sawyer.  _

Danny’s eyes welled up, just as he imagined Claudette’s were as she wrote the next few lines. Empathy has always been his strong suit in his line of work along with his drive, but even he was overwhelmed with despair and love in those words. 

_ I didn’t get to say it the last time we saw each other, at Pinky’s cafe. I won’t get to say it at all if you’re reading this letter. Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve, you know how it is. You were my best friend at Abernathy’s and through school. I thought we could have one more routine, all five of us, but I would’ve settled for just the two of us. We won’t get to do that now. _

_ I’m sorry for never getting back to you, and I wish you the best life. _

_ \- Claudette Simmons.  _

There was no doubt in Danny’s mind that this letter made Sawyer throw caution to the wind and pursue this case with terrifying tenacity. How could she not? The letter was Claudette’s last will and declaration of love to those she held dearest. Out of the four friends she had at the dance school, she picked  _ Sawyer _ , the one who followed her dreams. 

“You have my permission to read her diary,” the Persian whispered before she saw Danny open his arms for her. She wordlessly fell into an embrace and let out a shaky breath while he whispered that he would keep it safe whenever he had it. Both cats drifted asleep, half dressed in the night’s attire, unwilling to move from the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the reads and the kudos!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: references to sex work in Claudette's letters, discussion of grief 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ January 3, 1939 _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ I thought I hit my lowest point when I auditioned to dance for Magnusson & Bird’s, but I can’t deny that getting that job has been a godsend. I dance, I drink, I eat for free, and I don’t sleep alone on some nights. Some of them even gave me gifts, I was their favorite! It’s what me and the girls always talked about whenever we saw all those pretty debutantes at school, with their pretty gowns and jewels. Granted, I couldn’t tell a soul but I was finally able to get something and not ask my parents for another loan. My lowest point did come along, I just didn’t know it when I met him.  _

Whenever Sawyer could sneak away, her eyes glued themselves to every page contained in Claudette’s diary, severing her ties to the present. The morning had come as good as it could have, given the mess that happened back at M&B’s. Breakfast came by thanks to Wade, a  _ torta _ the way his mother would make it for him and the Richardsons. Having gotten the most sleep out of the bunch, he figured he should earn his stay with breakfast. The previous night’s tension had melted away, but their enthusiasm for the day was dampered.

_ “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”  _ she remembered Danny asking his sibling before he started to leave. 

_ “Pretty sure Sawyer’s stitching will hold and in any case, I’ll have Alfred take a look at it,” _ the younger Richardson assured before pecking his brother’s head. 

_ “He’s a coroner…” _

_ “Exactly, he should know how to keep me from showing up on his table. Besides, I have to get him to fudge those reports, remember?” _ the Frenchcat had no qualms in exploiting his body but he did soften his language, having long recognized his earlier hypocrisy.

“Sawyer are you all right?” Tilly’s voice brought the cat back to the present, almost making her spill her coffee. The normally jolly hippo had a concerned look, prompting Sawyer to immediately respond,

“I’m fine just-”

“You haven’t been like yourself in the last week, what’s going on?” the fellow actress asked, not buying that answer in the least, “You’ve been going through the motions...are you and Danny okay?” It was the first thing that came to Tilly’s mind, but she knew Sawyer better than to lose her mind over something as trivial as a tomcat. Even if he’d been their encouragement to give Hollywood one wildly successful hurrah. This  _ felt _ different, and Tilly didn’t like where it was seemingly taking her friend. 

“We’re fine, it’s not...Tilly, I can’t explain it,” Sawyer did her best to shut down the questioning. Tilly didn’t need her baggage, she was her happiest friend after all. How could she get dragged down into Claudette’s murder too? That burden was hers’ and Danny’s to carry until answers were obtained.

“No,” the hippo put her hoof down, causing a small tremor in the cast room walls, “Sawyer, you can’t just...shut me out like that! I thought we were friends!”

“That’s EXACTLY why I can’t tell you!” Sawyer snapped before realizing her mistake and misdirecting her frustration at the wrong animal. All this time working in Hollywood and she fell for a cliché: the unintended betrayal. It was too late and the words were a slap to the hippo’s face. Tilly came from a place of genuine concern only to have the metaphorical door slammed shut. There was an uncomfortable silence before Sawyer finally answered, “It’s about Claudette Simmons.”

“...The dancer that was found dead outside of Mammoth Studios?” Tilly’s voice broke from having her worries spat out but she was willing to listen, “You...knew her?” The tiny nod from Sawyer was answer enough and the reaction made sense to the hippo. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Is there something I can do to help?”

“Because I didn’t want to drag you into this mess,” Sawyer replied, doing her best to keep her involvement as secret as possible. And yet, it felt freeing to talk about it, even a little, “I’ve arranged the funeral, been working to get her affairs in order-”

“Why haven’t you asked for help? Don’t tell me you’re taking this all on your own,” Tilly’s earlier bitterness disappeared as she pointed out her friend’s inflexibility when it came to handling matters. 

“Danny’s been helping as well as his family-”

“And that’s great! He’s a great catch a-and I’m not knocking him down but,” the hippo sighed, “Have you  _ talked  _ to anyone else about this?” The implied question was fairly obvious: had she talked to a  _ female  _ friend about this matter? To Tilly, it seemed as if Sawyer had shut herself out of her usual haunts to nurse these open, emotional wounds with her boyfriend. And it worried the hippo that she was losing a dear friend who helped her climb out of her lot in life. Tilly did so many humiliating auditions in the past, and Sawyer stuck through them all. 

“I have,” Sawyer assured her friend while allowing herself to be more open about the situation, “But Tilly, I have to admit: Claudette left behind one hell of a mess. We’ve been working our tails off to try and keep it under control but…”  _ But I risked it all to find even a hint of what was going on in her life _ went unsaid, and in its place, she said, “She led a very complicated life.” 

Tilly wanted to ask more questions, it was clear on her face that she knew there was a lot more going on that meets the eye. A whistle announced that their break was over, and both actresses would have to go back on set, putting a pause on the matter. Sawyer was headstrong, she followed everything through to the end, “Darn, well, you need any help sorting that life out, you know I’m here for you, right?” That statement, simple and heartfelt, reminded the Persian that, unlike Claudette, she did have someone to talk to. In fact, she had many souls that would listen, even if things got out of hand. 

“I know...thank you Tilly,” Sawyer responded with a sad smile, forever grateful that her friend caught her behavior and reached out. “I’ll see you on set?”

“You bet!”

Meanwhile, as Danny practiced his lines for the next day’s scenes, he felt a familiar cold breeze on his neck. His castroom door slammed open by a severely pissed-off Samuel, glaring daggers towards his son. The mortician didn’t bother to excuse himself with the director or the clearly overworked assistants, he was going to give his child his due scolding. Luckily for Sam, his rage was so palpable that no one stood in his way.

“Hi dad,” Danny greeted, pretending nothing was wrong and today was a totally normal day. Looking like a 19th Century dandy didn’t help, more so when his father tapped his foot. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Daniel Alexandre Richardson,” Hearing his full name out loud made the actor squirm a little, “What, pray tell, happened last night? Because I got word from Wade that Paul ended up needing stitches and from Patricia, the night clerk at the parlor, that I was ‘summoned’ to tend to two bodies from Magnusson and Bird’s.”

Danny knew there would be a reckoning for what happened at the bar, but he hoped he’d have to face it during the wake the next day. No matter what kind of shoot day had been planned, he’d have to be honest to his father, “I’m sorry about making you work extra. Things had gotten out of hand really bad, really fast. It was as if someone at the bar wanted to cause confusion and panic there-”

The patriarch stopped his son with a gesture and for a moment, Danny thought he was about to get a verbal lashing the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in years. What did happen was far more surprising: his father walked over to him and gave him a hug. “You reckless brat,” Samuel whispered, his broken voice unable to hide the concern, “I don’t care about the bodies, stack ‘em up if you had to stand your ground. I only care that neither of you called me when you had the chance.”

As strange as this situation was, Danny felt comforted in knowing that his father wasn’t an unfeeling statue of a cat. That he was vulnerable to the fates as well. “I’m sorry, it was really late and I didn’t want to wake you up,” his usual cheerful tone dropped, allowing himself to be scared too. While he did sleep, Danny struggled with vivid nightmares of what could’ve happened if any one of them had a misstep. How it could’ve all ended with one stray bullet, or lost someone he loved. 

“Your mother was just as short-sighted at times: do things now, think of the consequences later,” Sam pointed out, taking a seat while he could, “I’m starting to think it runs down her side of the family.” But now to the matters at hand, “What did you four find?” 

Changing the subject did wonders to Danny’s mood, even if it was a morbid topic. “A lot! You were right: bar’s missing a bottle, probably the one missing from Claudette’s body. There’s letters Claudette had stashed away, there’s at least three suspects...I think the murderer was there, at the bar.” 

“And it’s very likely he’ll be at the funeral,” the mortician remarked, confusing Danny and prompting him to explain further while grabbing a nearby glass of water, “He’ll want to control what he can, see what the police and Claudette’s loved ones are up to. If he’s smart, he’ll keep his head down.”

“But what if he’s not as smart?” the actor pointed out, getting a chuckle from his father.

“Oh, he’ll be a smart little cookie, at least until he thinks he’s in no danger,” Samuel continued his explanation with a condescension that came natural to him but not his thespian son. He spoke as if he knew what a killer would think and it made Danny think about what he said before they went into the parlor:  _ You’ve seen cruelty, boy. I just made sure you never saw the full extent of it.  _ Was this what he meant? What  _ did  _ his father know about cruelty?

“How do you know that?” the younger Richardson asked, hoping to get some answers into his father’s past before he was born. These were the rare moments he could glimpse decades long gone, and peer into what his parents did and lived their lives. 

“I had a life before I met your mother that Lent so long ago, and before we moved to Kokomo. It’s a life I’ve grown to both respect and distance myself from...I had better things to do with my life,” The mortician responded as he checked his pocket watch and placed a small bundle wrapped in a napkin on the nearby table before heading out. “I’ll leave you be, to act and do whatever actors do. Do show up early tomorrow, I’m gonna need all hands on deck. I hope you remember what these days were like back home.”

  
While Danny was irritated with his father’s patronizing attitude towards his work, he waited until Sam was long gone to peek into what he left behind.  _ Curiosity killed the cat _ , he thought, undoing the bundle and letting a dull metal object fall on his lap,  _ But satisfaction brought it back.  _ The lustre had long since faded, probably from years of being kept in a box to rust, but the embossed letters were as clear as day: NEW ORLEANS POLICE DEPARTMENT. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the reads and the kudos!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: explicit discussion of grieving and loss, a funeral, some cursing in French
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design. 
> 
> Since it's Christmas 2020, this week will be a double-chapter update, happy holidays!

_ July 13, 1942 _

_ To my lady in red, _

_ Why haven’t you come out and sat with me these last few nights? Why haven’t you responded to my calls? I know I sent you those flowers you liked, and that necklace your eyes spotted. I thought it was enough. I’m desperate to see you, darling. I know I did you wrong but some things can’t be helped. We both knew this wasn’t a conventional relationship. _

_ What can make you come talk to me again?  _ _   
  
_

_ \- MS _

The skies on that Saturday morning were clear, perfect for a trip to a beach, but Sawyer had no thoughts of crashing waves. The delicate black veil hung over her petite ears while she used her vanity mirror to put on a simple necklace. Her black dress, gifted to her by someone from a designer who wanted some exposure, would most likely land her on Glitzy Cockatoo’s inevitable Best Dressed list. The artifice wasn’t lost on the cat as she could see Danny adjusting his finely tailored suit and top hat for the occasion. For all the gaudy looks Hollywood was known for, and a funeral was no exception, they would be studied and dissected by the gossip machine.

“Ready to go?” Danny asked, placing his paws on Sawyer’s shoulders, meeting her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. They were alone in the apartment, and probably their entire floor. It was Saturday, most people would be going out, ignorant of their neighbors’ existence. For the two cats, their lives were put on hold.

“No, but I have no choice,” the actress responded, asserting herself through a crack to her voice. Come tomorrow, Claudette would be buried and everything would be back to normal, or that’s what her director believed. That giving his main star a day to grieve was enough to get her back to concentrating on the project. He was wrong, but Sawyer knew to put her feelings in a box, and let them out far away from prying eyes. 

But unlike her director, Danny offered her a reprieve by leaning his head on hers and silently laid his lips there. The emergency was long over: Claudette could wait a little to be seen one last time.  _ It’s your turn to be “selfish” for a little bit. _ If being raised by a mortician and what little he could remember of his mother taught him anything, the Kokomo cat didn’t consider this pause to actually be ‘selfish’, but it’s what Hollywood thought. For him, everyone needed a quiet moment.

“I don’t know if I can face her parents again,” she murmured, her mind harkening back to the anguished screams Claudette’s mother let out. The way the visceral notes echoed in the morgue’s walls stuck in Sawyer’s mind, while her father’s struggled to not join into the cacophony. It hollowed out Sawyer’s entire being until the police sedated both grieving parents. 

“I’ll be there with you,” Danny assured her. If Sawyer could count on her boyfriend for something, it was keeping a promise. She knew she wasn’t going to be alone at the funeral, her parents would be there as well as Danny’s father. Maybe she’ll see some friends? Maybe even Lady Abernathy and her classmates? But at least she wasn’t facing them alone. 

“Let’s go,” Sawyer whispered, doing her best to keep herself in one place before taking Claudette’s diary in her handbag. Danny noticed a slip of paper fall out of the small purse and immediately picked it up. “You dropped this.”

“Hm? Oh...um,” by the way it was folded and Sawyer’s embarrassed reaction, it was obvious this was a letter meant for Claudette. 

“I did the same thing with my mom. We all did,” Danny managed to share a small anecdote as he returned the letter to the actress, “I don’t remember what I wrote, pretty sure I misspelled some words but she took them all with her. You should take it to Claudette.” His father taught him the value of a farewell ritual, something as simple as writing a letter, or washing the dead’s hair. At least Sawyer would have the closure of an open casket, unlike some of the patients Samuel tended to back in Kokomo. 

The walk to the parlor was short, Danny remembered it from when he brought his father to the place. Out front, he could see a pair of older Persian cats, both dressed in fine mourning clothes. The older male cat was wheelchair-bound, while the graceful lady cat stood by, both chatting with a parlor concierge, a clear tell that these were Sawyer’s parents. Even as an older cat, Thomas McDermid still had the presence of a renowned attorney, with grey eyes that could look through the other side’s lies and a mind to put them in a bind. Hazel McDermid was a cat that needed no introduction, standing tall with a bob cut and a voice that could put Greta Garbo to task. They seemed like the Old Hollywood power couple, intimidating to a country cat like Danny but with that rare ingredient missing from the tabloids: love. 

“Ah, Daniel, pleased to see you again,” Thomas broke the ice, extending a paw to shake after Sawyer greeted him and her mother, “I heard your father did the funeral arrangements...I’ve never met him until today, funny that.”

“Well, given his work, he, um, he tends to not have vacation time,” Danny acknowledged rather sheepishly, shaking the paw and telling the truth. It was never about being ashamed of his father’s profession, it was Samuel’s pride that kept him from coming to California. 

“It’s true,” Speak of the devil, as Samuel stepped out of the parlor, dressed in a sharp three piece black suit with a single white napkin on the lapel. He was acting as the funeral director for this event, but broke his professional stance to meet Sawyer’s family with a curt bow, “My daughter, Samantha Leane, currently tending to the parlor in Indiana, while I’m away. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Thomas chuckled and returned the gesture with a kind grin, “You’re the cat that raised this fine lad, I wouldn’t be surprised if he learned his impeccable work ethic and headstrong nature from you.”

“I could only expect the same from you and how you both raised your daughter to be a Hollywood powerhouse. I’ve read some of your more prominent court victories,” Samuel’s demeanor mellowed out a bit, seeing an equal in both Thomas and Hazel, “I take it retirement has been kind?”

“It has been but given these circumstances, I would’ve preferred to have been in the practice again,” Thomas sighed out, prompting Hazel to add, “The Simmons family are going through hell at this moment. We’re trying our best at the court but-”

“Mom, Dad, what are you talking about?” Sawyer’s confusion was evident as well as the Richardsons. They were so focused on the murder, that they hadn’t considered the other branching paths her death had provoked, including the legal ramifications.

“...Someone is seizing Claudette’s estate in its entirety, claiming she didn’t own anything in that apartment,” Thomas answered, freezing everyone’s blood in their veins. “I put an injunction in pro-bono for her family. I told the judge that it’d be contrary to California state law to have every item seized without going through the proper channels. The motion was granted but it’s taken a toll on her parents.” 

The look of horror in both Danny’s and Sawyer’s faces was clear, especially with the implications that Claudette’s gifts were now being stolen from her grieving parents, or worse: someone was trying to destroy evidence. Samuel sprung to action, knowing from his own experience how tricky estate disputes could become, “You did the right thing, sir. It seems untimely-”

“Oh it’s absolutely suspicious,” Hazel remarked, from her own perspective, letting her opinion fly, “But right now, we got everything frozen while Wesley and Bessie bury their child. The court battles can wait, right now, we’ll be there for them.” Especially as a cab rolled in with those very souls. None of the McDermids had seen the two parents in years now, and time had taken its pound of flesh from them.

Wesley was a portly Spaniel though his eyes bore the weight of the world as he held his wife close. Bessie, a golden Spaniel herself, seemed to be in a pale daze, as if she’d been sedated all this time. The loss of her daughter drove her to a temporary madness, a completely understandable outcome. She could barely lift her head as she walked, prompting Hazel to go over and welcome them in silence. Thomas quietly followed, as Sam pushed his chair inside, while their children stood outside. 

“ _ Merde _ ,” Danny hissed under his breath, using French to hide his cursing from those that didn’t understand the language “This is getting bad. Dad was right: someone’s trying to control everything they can.” Oh did he hate his dad being so spot on.

“Yeah, it’s not like her diary mentions any debts, so it can’t be the banks...at least, not yet. They tried to stop us at the Bar, and now this?” It was too obvious: the estate included everything, like the diary and the letters. And whoever started the claim  _ knew _ that most of Claudette’s possessions were gifts. “I’ll ask Dad if there’s a name attached to the property claims.”

One thing stuck out in Danny’s mind,  _ The killer will be at the funeral _ , now it was all but certain. “We have to keep our eyes open...and stay safe.” And away from the incoming cameras as he spotted a photographer setting up his tripod. It was unsettling to see this turned into a spectacle but the country cat led his girlfriend inside. 

It was too early for guests to come over, enough time to allow the parents and close loved ones to have a private viewing. Bessie wanted her daughter to have a public service at the time, but now she just needed her time to say goodbye. The viewing room itself was beautiful in its own way, as lamps were dimmed and a small spotlight shone over the open casket, covered in wreaths. Wesley and Bessie sat down on the side, openly weeping while Samuel stood guard. In the back, Sawyer could spot Wade and Paul, off to the side and drinking much needed coffee. They weren’t here just for the case, they were here for  _ her _ . 

It was painful to see the light shine over, and the Persian actress wanted to pretend this wasn’t a friend of hers, just another celebrity come and gone. Her paws felt clammy in Danny’s, and her golden eyes began to gloss over with tears. Every step he helped her lead felt heavier, every breath stolen, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that some bastard was running around, enjoying life while Claudette was dead. Sawyer wanted nothing but to see her friend’s murderer beg for mercy, along with darker thoughts of what she’d do in response. She heard her father’s voice as well as her mother’s but they were muffled in her mind. The world went mute as it was her turn and she turned her head to face Claudette.

For a moment, her thoughts went quiet. No desire for revenge, no need to find out the truth, just...her friend. Claudette looked beautiful in the simple dress Sawyer picked out, looking as if she had merely dozed off in the wrong bed. Her forehead had the faint markings of lipstick, evidence that her mother had kissed her baby good night one last time. Nowhere did Sawyer see the wounds Paul described in the autopsy report and in that moment, Danny’s words made sense. She could not have handled seeing Claudette in any other way, just the way she remembered her.

_“Hey Sawyer!”_ _Claudette called out from Pinky’s Cafe. “Oh my goodness! You look great!”_

_ “You think? I’m trying to get a better fit with this skirt,” Sawyer responded with a shy smile, “Secretary job and all that. My last audition didn’t go too great.” _

_ “Oh honey, you’d look great in a burlap sack, it wouldn’t matter! Come in! I’m sorry I fell off the map, how have you been? Let me treat you to some coffee.” the dancer offered, grinning as she welcomed her friend inside. _

Tears flowed from Sawyer’s eyes, her walls broken down and the raw pain poured out in silence. Her friend laid dead, sleeping eternally while she stood above, dealing with the aftermath. The words on the letter pounded in her head and for a second, all she wanted to do was collapse on the floor and weep. Instead Sawyer whispered “I love you”, voicing the words that Claudette never managed to share in life, and slipped her letter into her resting paws. She quietly nodded to Danny, she was ready to give another mourner their turn. He gave Claudette a small bow with his head and whispered “I wish I could’ve met you,” before leading the way to the grieving parents. A simple sentiment but Danny could only know Claudette Simmons by what she left behind.

As the day carried on, animals began to pay their respects, more than any of the present guests were anticipating. Of course Woolie made the trip, having been Claudette’s mentor for as long as she kept in contact. Cranston, Frances, and Tilly made it as well, along with T.W. the turtle, all offering the Simmons family their condolences. Then came the other animal actors that found work in Tinseltown, bringing gifts, laurels and some carried envelopes full of cash to help the family. Sawyer sat outside the viewing rooms for a second, smiling a little as it began to fill up with guests. 

“I don’t think she would’ve expected this turnout,” she remarked as Danny brought her a warm cup of coffee and settled beside her. The unspoken question was clear and Sawyer nodded, she was doing all right, all things considered.

“She was beloved in her own way,” he responded, soothing Sawyer before noticing two familiar guests make their way through the growing crowd. “How’s your arm, Paul?”

The Frenchcat first hugged Sawyer and whispered words of comfort before responding, “Much better. Alfred checked it out last night, just needed some fresh bandages and a heaping dose of painkillers.” In fact, both actors could tell that whatever the coroner did, he did it with skill as Paul was able to move his arm around much better than before. “He...did some requested changes to the autopsy reports so I don’t think I’ll be seeing him any time soon. His career and all that.”

It gave credence to Samuel’s earlier claim that he had to deal with two unexpected bodies but Danny read between the lines. This might’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back in that relationship, “I’m sorry you guys ended on a sour note.”

“It’s not an ending if it never was a thing to begin with,” Paul reminded his brother with a resigned smile before focusing on Sawyer, “How are you doing  _ ma cherie _ ?” 

“Better? I don’t know, grieving isn't something I’m used to,” she admitted with a long sip of her coffee. “I guess I’m just glad I got to see her again.” 

“Unless you’re Sam or a doctor like Monroe back in Kokomo, you’re not really used to grieving. Do you guys have to work tomorrow?” Wade added, leaning against the nearest wall and keeping an eye out for potential suspects or threats. The M&B’s fiasco made him cautious to a certain degree. “Mammoth can’t really be so desperate for new movies that he can’t give two of his money makers a break.” 

Sawyer shook her head, “At least I’m not due on set tomorrow, mostly B-roll, and secondary scenes. I suppose our sleuthing about will have to wait for a bit…”

Her voice trailed off as she spotted a sight she hadn’t expected to see. In fact, various faces had made their way to the funeral that Sawyer had her doubts they’d bother to show up. From his vantage point, Paul could spot Pvt. Roland West, donning the formal regalia of a soldier for the occasion, looking twice as dour as he did at M&B’s. Wade managed to catch a glimpse of Elena, dressed in a black velvet number with a bright red hibiscus to top her flapper hat. Neither of them looked like they wanted to make a splash, just pay their respects and say good-bye. Danny was more surprised to see Lady Abernathy herself, the doe standing tall, stern, a monolith of a dancer and a sharp glance. She didn’t look a day older than the pictures Sawyer showed him, save for the telltale grey flecks of time on her face and hair.

What stood out for Sawyer had to be seeing her old dance schoolmates for the first time in years, giving Claudette’s last wish some closure. It was shocking to see Maude look as beautiful as the dancer thought her to be in her diary’s pages, wearing a luxurious black petticoat dress and shawl that fit her svelte form in contrast to her plus one’s pouting disinterest with a simple black suit, gloves, and tie.  _ She really should’ve made it, _ Sawyer thought, bringing back some old insecurities about her own look,  _ She still has that Old Tinseltown look _ . But she looked miserable, as if Sawyer could peer into something painful within her eyes. Dorothy had kept herself fit throughout the years, her dress had more bounce, and her deep voice had a more pronounced New Yorker accent now, cracking a little joke about remembering how terrible the California heat was. Phyllis had the most drastic changes, having become a mother herself, though she still had a mirthful beauty about her. 

“Sawyer?” Phyllis broke their chatter with a questioning tone, as if not recognizing her friend after all this time. The actress didn’t know what to say at that moment, tongue caught in all the thoughts that came before. Maude glanced over to the fellow cat and, for a second, Sawyer could’ve sworn there was a flash of...something in her eyes. Was it sadness? Resentment? Fear? It didn’t matter as both Dorothy and Phyllis rushed over to hug the Persian tight. The warmth broke through all those horrid self-doubting thoughts and reminded Sawyer what the point of this spectacle was as Maude joined into the embrace: saying goodbye to their fellow dancer. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for stopping by to read and for the kudos!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: explicit discussion of grieving and loss, references to alcohol consumption.
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.
> 
> Since it's Christmas 2020, this week will be a double-chapter update, happy holidays!

_ May 23, 1942 _

_ Dear Diary,  _

_ It’s been too long since I saw him, and I suppose he must’ve gotten bored of me. Did he find a new dancer to spoil? I know what he’s been up to and part of me wants to keep going. To throw caution to the wind and keep the gravy train going. It’s been a good bunch of years. _

_ But I can’t do that. Not anymore. I’m leaving this mess with someone better than him but not before bending the bastard over and have him beg to know what I know. I know my choice might not provide luxury and comforts, but sometimes it’s better to be happy than to have all the jewels in Los Angeles. And boy does my sweetheart make me happy. I wonder: am I in love with love itself that I’m just willing to dump my past and go with him? Would he see past my horrible deeds and accept me? I could pretend that I don’t want a knight in shining armor, but it’s also nice to dream about happily ever after.  _

_ \- Claudette _

_ PS: Gotta make sure to get to auditions early, can’t keep them waiting. _

To say that there was so much to catch up on was an understatement as Danny watched Sawyer chatter with her childhood friends. He smiled a little as his girlfriend shared her adventures and sorrows, listening to others talk about their lives.

“You love her don’t you?” Paul whispered, catching his brother’s expression and standing beside him while keeping his ears perked for any disturbances. It was another instance of both siblings being alone for a few seconds, as if the world paused for them. His response is a nod and an orange paw patting an empty spot on the visitor’s sofa. 

“Even when we’re arguing, it doesn’t change the fact,” Danny replied, leaning his head against the wall and sighing out as Paul took the offered seat, “I want...her to be happy. I want to make her feel safe and joyful.” 

“And yet…?”

“And yet, I’m not sure I’m doing this right,” the orange tabby admitted, “I’ve been making things work as they come along, even this investigation. I didn’t leave home with a foolproof plan, remember?”

“I had my doubts your five step plan to become an actor would work, won’t lie to you,” the Frenchcat quipped while getting shoved slightly, “Oh you know I’m going to remember that!”

“I was young and stupid! I wanted to spite Dad and show him I was good enough to make it in Hollywood! I wanted to prove to everyone I had what it took.”

“Sounds like a recurring theme in our lives, the whole proving we’re good enough...but Danny, you’ve proved everyone wrong when it comes to your decisions, and come out on top. Because  _ you _ made the call, and what happened when it went badly? You bore the weight of it all,” Paul said with conviction, reminding his brother of the colossal mistakes he made throughout his life, “Sawyer sees that. She wouldn’t have stuck around our family’s brand of crazy if she didn’t.” 

“What if she needs a hero, someone more mature than me- OW!” Danny was interrupted by a slap to the back of the head courtesy of his younger brother.

Paul explained to a glaring brother, “First, no one needs a hero. You’re reading way too many scripts,  _ mon frer _ , you’re starting to believe they’re real. Secondly, you’ve grown up enough that you’re doing everything you can. Trust me, I know you’ve changed for the better these last few years.” He paused to think his next words through and continued, “I would walk...I’d waltz to Hell and back to have what you two have, even if it was for a moment.” His face spoke more than any words could and in a way, Danny saw his brother relate to Claudette. They were both self-professed libertines in their own manner but yearned for something more than just another night. Why they didn’t allow themselves to be happy was a mystery. 

“You will, and you won’t have to do any of the things you’re thinking of doing,” the actor assured before a slovenly, mildly overweight cat walked over, and interrupted their conversation.

“You guys know where the bar is?” the gruff voice that came out of the stranger’s mouth asked, “I’m not great with these sorts of things.” Out of reflex, Paul shot a hidden glance at the stranger’s arms by faking a cough and covering his mouth to see if he could find any fresh scratches on his arm. Unfortunately, the funeral attire prevented the mechanic from taking a proper look and allowed Danny to answer with a rueful shrug,

“There’s no bar here, sorry.” 

“Dammit, I didn’t want to deal with this sober. I’m Louie Palmer,” the cat introduced himself before rubbing his forehead, “You’re Danny Richardson, the movie star, aren’t you? Big fan of your work....what are you doing here?”

“Thank you, I’m here to say goodbye to Claudette, she was a friend of my partner, Sawyer,” the actor answered, reaching a paw out to shake, just like his mother always taught him to do with a new face. Paul was understandably more cautious in mirroring his brother, keeping his guard up. Louie readily accepted the gestures and smirked,

“You two don’t make much of a splash in the gossip rags, that’s good,” Louie remarked, “Maude’s been watching every movie you two have made since becoming stars, talked about giving it another shot.” His demeanor dropped as he glanced towards the wake room, “Right up until Claudette’s murder. Aren’t you guys scared?”

“Scared of what? A possible drunk who got too violent with a late-night dancer?” the cream-colored tabby rolled his eyes and met with his brother’s fleeting but searing glare. “No, don’t think there’s much to be afraid, contrary to what Cockatoo’s been mouthing off on the radio.” 

Before Louie could respond with his own crack at the incident, his eyes widened at the entrance. There walked a sharply dressed Shorthair tom, with a streak of white along his slicked back head. He was surrounded by three animal bodyguards, and a dainty Russian Blue date, all looking ready to cause some trouble if need be. The parlor’s conversation became hushed, everyone save for the Richardsons knew who this particular guest and his stunning date for the wake were. Fitness wasn’t a top priority for the cat as a small gut belied a life full to the brim with excesses. 

Louie whispered with a small terror cracking his voice, “That’s Kenneth ‘Wildcat’ Peterson...one of the big wigs in the Hollywood Underworld. Word on the street is that he has a stake in a lot of studios and businesses like auto shops, yachts, art galleries, jewelry, all to launder money through them...what the hell is he doing here?”

“...To pay respects to Claudette?” Danny responded blankly, processing this knowledge and looking at both Sawyer and his brother with uncertainty. Was Claudette a mob girl? Whatever her connection to Kenneth was, it was certainly intimate as the stranger looked saddened by the loss and left a single red rose on the dancer’s chest. He gave his condolences to the grieving parents by kneeling down and whispering words to Bessie, while Wes stood stiff with fear. Just as mysteriously as he arrived, the alleged mobster exited the parlor and got into an awaiting limousine. 

The parlor came alive once more as soon as the vehicle disappeared into traffic and Danny could’ve sworn he saw Louie’s soul returned to his body. ”There’s a bar two minutes’ walk from here,” the actor informed the still reeling car dealer.

“Thanks...Tell Maude that’s where I’ll be. You ever need a used car, I got just the place,” Louie excused himself by giving the tabby a card and hightailing out of the building. 

Before Danny could even read the card, Paul yanked it from his paws and ripped it apart. “Paul what the-?!”

“Wade has the number at the Shop, remember? We’re working on two of his cars,” the Frenchcat shrugged and stood up, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on Roland and make sure Wade isn’t a jackass to that M&B’s dancer.” 

Danny shook his head and smiled, “Good luck with that last one…and Paul?”

“ _ Oui _ ?”

“Don’t go into the dating pool too quickly,” the actor offered the advice of a big brother trying in vain to stop his sibling from inflicting any more unnecessary pain on himself, “Give yourself a break. Figure out what you really want.” Like he told Sawyer, he wasn’t blind to the happenings. 

Paul rolled his eyes and smiled back with a shrug, “Wasn’t planning on it, but maybe I’ll do it just to spite you.” With that, he turned tail and went into the small crowd. He might not have spoken the words out loud but he truly appreciated Danny’s concerns. 

Meanwhile, Sawyer caught Louie exiting the parlor without so much as a stop to tell his wife, which prompted her to face said cat. Maude inhaled deeply and shrugged, “There went husband dearest.” The nonchalance in her tone let every lady animal on the table know that this wasn’t an uncommon event. It provoked Phyllis to ask, 

“Is...everything okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Maude assured, feigning a half-hearted smile, “Louie’s just not great with crowds. Or having the life spooked out of him, given our surprise visitor. Can’t believe Claudette spent time around those crowds.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Dorothy remarked only to get cut off by a harsh chuckle from Mrs. Palmer. 

“Dotty, come on, don’t be naïve. Claudette made her bed, and sometimes that bed included local mobsters. You’re in New York City, you know what it’s like...She must’ve done one hell of a trick if he bothered to visit her funeral,” Maude elaborated, taking out a lacquered cigarette holder, already loaded up for her enjoyment. 

Her attitude reminded Sawyer of the old dynamics back in 1932, within Lady Abernathy’s strict rules. Maude had always been the unofficial leader of their quintet, with a headstrong attitude and dismissiveness to anyone below her social station. While Sawyer’s parents ran a successful law firm, Maude’s father inherited a small fortune from her ancestors investing in the California transcontinental railways. She was always on top, and never had to care about the perils her classmates faced. Everyone just let her push them around, not raising a challenge to upset her and Daddy Bigbucks as they all called him...until that very moment. It took every ounce of patience and strength for Sawyer to not snap at her former classmate, and the Persian settled on a trite, “No one knows the full story, Maude. It’s up to the police to figure out what happened, and maybe bring someone to justice…” But she had to get one important detail in, “You could at least wait until she’s buried to start talking trash about her.” 

All three of the former dancers’ eyes widened and Maude’s expression froze in place. A few tense seconds passed and the Abynissian put away her cigarette holder. “You’re right...it’s...not my place,” she half-apologized for her indiscretion, “Claudette was still one of us and she didn’t deserve what happened to her.” 

“Thank you for your kindness, I’m gonna go check on Bessie and Wes,” Sawyer bid her friends farewell, excusing herself from the table on a sour note. She hadn’t expected Maude to have such a tactless response.  _ At least when Paul did it, he was actually sorry for being a jerk _ . As she peeked into the viewing room, Sawyer spotted her parents as well as Samuel doing their best to keep the Simmons couple company and easing the loss by chatting with them. Her small comfort was broken by Maude’s paw on her shoulder, “What is it, Maude?” 

“I got it, I was a...a witch to Claudette…” Humility tasted like lemons to Maude, but she continued, “I was wondering, do you have some free time Saturday? I...I know you’re a big actress these days but-” That previous look in her eyes came back and Sawyer realized that it wasn’t rage or resentment, it was a sort of emptiness. That same emptiness that she had when all life was amounting to was a secretary job and a broken spirit.  _ Before Danny tap-danced his way into my life. _

“Where do you want to meet up?” Sawyer inquired, willing to put aside her temporary bitterness to reconnect with an old friend. It caught Maude off guard long enough to slightly fluster her impeccable face.

“My house, over in Pasadena. I suppose it’s too late in the year for a barbecue but a couple of drinks and some cheese boards?” the glamorous wife invited, as some of that inner void receded for that moment and replaced with a little bit of hope. “I know Dotty and Phyllis will be heading home right after this but we can’t help those.” The implications were obvious and painfully familiar: neither wanted to lose another friend living in the same state, same area. 

“I’d love that,” Sawyer agreed with a comforting smile, “I’ll definitely let Danny know.” Satisfied with the answer, Maude returned the expression and slipped out of the parlor to follow her husband wherever he went off to.  _ Speaking of _ , she thought as the orange-haired tabby walked over, “Are you all right?”

“I’d ask the same question to you, ma’am,” Danny replied, getting a clearly sarcastic look back. “You looked like you ate a lemon, did something happen between you and-”

“Maude was being disrespectful, I put her in her place, but we’re on good...somewhat good terms,” Sawyer answered and sighed, “I want to go home, and just deal with tomorrow as it happens.” The exhaustion crashed into her body and for once, she wished she didn’t have to walk home. That movie magic could be real and when she blinked, they’d be at their apartment. 

“Then let’s go home,” Danny stated, blunt enough for the feline actress to stare, “Sawyer, hate to tell ya, but you really have to take care of yourself. I’ll even carry you if you don’t feel like walking.” 

The offer was so tempting that the next thing Sawyer said was, “We can go through the back exit? Pretty sure there won’t be any press there.” Knowing these streets was a blessing in disguise as she led the way out, stealthily avoiding any cameras or reporters they could spot. Once outside, Danny allowed her to climb on his back and carry her home through the darkened alleyways. He could feel her head resting on his shoulders, prompting him to hum a song from his childhood.

“...Haven’t heard that one before,” Sawyer murmured, “Farmland tunes?”

“Nope, something my mom used to sing to us at bed time, something about the moon. She’d laugh as she sang it to us. She always made sure that the last thing we saw before bed was her smile, and the last thing we heard was her voice,” the Kokomo cat explained, his tone more wistful than he intended.

“Do you remember her?”

“Yeah, I still remember one of the last times she kissed us goodnight…she looked so weak, she needed help from Dad but she kissed my head good night,” Danny answered, falling deeper into his memories as he walked, “I suppose she had a special nickname for each one of us, because she used to call me her star.” 

_ “Ma petite étoile, j'espère qu'un jour tu sentiras la joie que je ressens quand je te verrai...”  _

_ Her soft voice echoed in the room, as gentle green eyes met her child’s and a light touch to his nose. Danny always thought of her as the prettiest and kindest cat in the whole world, tucking every one of her children to bed before sitting down in the middle of the room. Some nights she’d sing them lullabies, other nights she’d tell them fairy tales or stories about the world. Tonight, Wade was sleeping over, begrudgingly sharing a bed with Paul, while Ma’am Catalina was working late again. _

_ “What will it be for tonight, my babies?” She asked, her accent melodious as she took a small poll on what her audience wanted to hear. Her bedtime gown made her look like something out of a painting, moving like flowing water with every gesture. She could spot her husband leaning against the door frame, smiling at his family, which prompted her to say, “I know! I will tell you the story of the Rude Duke of Córdoba for our special guest.” She danced, she acted her way through the story, even the most ridiculous scenes with an innate graceful joy, delighting her children until they drifted to sleep. _

“She sounds a lot like you,” Sawyer commented as Danny finished his retelling of those nights and let her step down. They finally were at their building, and the Persian knew the laundromat door was usually unlocked until late for any emergency washings. It was a quiet entrance, and most tenants were enjoying dinner by now.

“Heh, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Danny shrugged with a dimmed smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Funnily enough, better knowing I’m not gonna be alone through these days,” Sawyer assured as the elevator arrived, “Thanks for...you know, carrying me home and being here.” She half-expected a quip back, not a kiss on the forehead and a hug. 

“Thanks for letting me be here,” Danny replied back, acknowledging that it took so much strength for her to keep her composure and that he, out of all the cats in Hollywood, was allowed to see her at her most raw and vulnerable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read! And thank you for the kudos!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: cursing in Spanish, references to sex work by Claudette and Elena.
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.
> 
> Happy New Year 2021! First update of the year!

_ September 4, 1940 _

_ To the Lady in Red, _

_ Are you from the moon? Because last night you were out of this world! My knees are still jello in the morning, I came in late to my appointments! I gotta see you again, I’ve never had such amazing sex in my life! You have to let me treat you to something, all right? I can’t just not reward that kind of service. _

_ \- MS _

“You could get so much more action if you weren’t such a cad,” Paul commented in a backhanded compliment as he watched Wade fix his hair in the bathroom for the upteenth time that day. “Then again, this is a funeral, so I can’t vouch for the quality of that action.”

“I’m not the one who previously slept with a LA County Coroner on the side,” Wade quipped right back, frustrated at some perceived flaw before turning to his friend.

“And that saved your behind from spending a night in jail so what’s your point?” the Frenchcat retorted, earning him a pout, “It’s not your hair that’s wrong, it’s your tie.” With a quick lift of the shirt collar, Paul undid the tie and breathed in as he remade it in a proper manner. He had no idea if Wade even remembered what he said that night after the M&B’s shootout, so he went with the safest conclusion. “ _ The only one allowed to do Frenchie is me”...he must’ve thought that he’d be the only one to do me in...whatever that means.  _ Even if doing these sort of things were basically self-inflicted torture, he smirked softly, “Your mother’s not here to dress you.”

“You can go sit on a wrench, Frenchie, pointy end up,” the ferret grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes before they settled on the deft machinations. “Does your shoulder still hurt to move?” he asked softly, concerned. He noticed the twitch whenever Paul used his injured arm, and how vibrant those green eyes were as they focused intensely on the knot. 

“Barely, I’ve been a good boy and followed Alfred’s orders.”

“Now that’s a great joke: you actually following any commands or orders,”

The banter earned Wade a grin from the haughty cat and a pat to the cheek as soon as he was done fixing the tie, “ _ Au contraire _ , I choose the orders I want to follow; there’s a big difference. Now you look decent.” 

A stall door opened behind them, startling both animals into withdrawing their weapons of choice. Staring back at them with his own service pistol was Roland, eyes red and stunned silent but ready to defend himself. It took the Alsatian soldier a few seconds before blurting out “...Paul?”

“Well  _ merde _ .”

Wade glanced towards the still alert cat, finger off the trigger as soon as he heard his friend’s name, “You...know this guy?” He wasn’t about to lower his gun until Paul exasperatedly pushed it down. 

“At ease, both of you.” The command went to both of them as the mechanic got between their gun barrels with a clearly annoyed look, “Wade, this is Private Roland West of the 86th Corps. He was at the bar when the shootout happened. Pvt. West, this is Ángelito, better known as Wade. Don’t ask how he came to that nickname.”

“ _ Jódete, gato cabrón. _ ” 

“Love you too cupcake,” The tabby then pointed his stiletto knife right at Roland’s neck without missing a beat, “how much did you hear?”

“...You slept with the coroner to change the autopsy reports?” Roland admitted, remembering how lethal Paul could be with a blade and how he had to explain to his fellow squadmates why his civvies were coated with blood. For a second, the unluckiest soldier that side of the Atlantic braced for a quick death in a restroom, not the most glorious of demises. Then an enlightened expression made its way to his face, prompting him to lower his gun, “You saved me back there, at the bar. I...never got to thank you for it.”

This softened both mechanics’ stances and Paul shrugged while he pulled back his blade and stored it away, as if it hadn’t been such a monumental task, “You were having the worst week of your life. I couldn’t let it get any worse.” As awkward as this was, it was nothing in comparison on what Roland said next,

“I want in.”

“In on what, doughboy?” Wade snapped, not realizing he was being a tad overprotective with his best friend. Paul could easily take this soldier down but that injured shoulder was front and center in the ferret’s mind.

For all his beginner’s tumbles into dealing with the harsh Hollywood civilians, and given his uniform was in disarray, West put his foot down and elaborated, “Whatever you’re doing here, with Claudette’s murder. It can’t be a coincidence that we were all at M&B’s and now we’re all here at the funeral. Besides, I could go to my commanding officer and-”

Paul immediately wagged a finger and made a tsk sound, “I wouldn’t try that,  _ mon ami _ .” Just like Danny, he was already flipping the situation into his favor with his words, “I can’t imagine the reaming you’ll get if your commanding officers find out about your own skeletons. I take it Claudette sent you many saucy letters,” the telltale avoidance was enough for the Frenchcat to continue his game, “Letters that would make even hardened generals blush! But that’s not what can get you in hot water.” 

With a confidence befitting a Richardson cat, Paul drew uncomfortably closer to Roland and looked at him in the eye, “You and your regiment weren’t supposed to be at the bar that night, now were you?” 

Roland swallowed then drew back, eyes widened as he realized just how screwed he could be. That his own superiors would find out his involvement in the shootout. That fear was even more evident when Paul added, practically purring as he played with the uniform tie, “You got a lot of nerve trying to bully me and my idiot friend into complying to  _ your  _ scheme, to try and get some justice for your beloved...I deeply respect that.” 

To say that both Roland and Wade were hanging on with surprisingly baited breath to every word the mechanic said was an understatement. When Paul exuded confidence and control, it was easy to see how he could snag a coroner and slip past with no one the wiser. “You’re in...but on  _ our  _ terms.”

“Wait...what?” Wade was the first to break the uncomfortable silence in the restroom, “He’s in?!” Even through his conflicted mind, he still had the wherewithal to not let the cat do as he pleased. “I don’t remember the unofficial committee approving this motion!”

“He’s not Claudette’s killer, he doesn’t have the defensive wounds the autopsy report warned about,” Paul demonstrated by pulling back one of Roland’s sleeves to reveal pristine forearms, “Claudette fought for her life, she went in deep and those aren’t claw marks that heal quickly. But if our honorable soldier wants to help, I say let him.”

But before Roland could get a word in, Paul pulled him closer by the tie and smirked. “But like I said, on our terms.” The Frenchcat was already coming up with machinations but first, a little demonstration, “You look a fright,  _ mon cher soldat _ . You must’ve escaped to this restroom to get away from all this mourning and you found us. How lucky must you be.”

West felt out of breath, as if he both wanted to escape and stick around for what other surprises this civilian had. He remained perfectly still as the mechanic silently patted the jacket’s shoulders and lapels flat, then straightened the patches to make him look presentable to the public. Roland found himself stuck between fear and...excitement. Nothing he’d seen since coming home from the tours, adventuring with his regiment had come close to this adrenaline-laced moment. It almost reminded him of his escapes with Claudette herself, breath stolen away.

“You’re going to follow my every lead, do exactly what I tell you to do whenever we call you,” Paul remarked with a mad little smile as he fixed Roland’s tie a little too tight for his neck, “Or I’ll gut you like a holiday dinner.” With his job finished, the tabby turned to the mirror, smiled at his reflection, and left with a simple, “I’ll be seeing you, as you give your final goodbyes to Claudette. Let’s not lose sight of who we’re all here for. ”

Roland stood stiff for a second and said without much of a filter left in his brain, “I...don’t know if I’m turned on or terrified.”

“That’s kinda Frenchie’s whole deal,” Wade remarked, quietly swallowing down the inappropriate feelings he was experiencing. He knew how intense Paul could get, a force of nature if he ever saw one. But he’d never seen his best friend be unrestrained, wielding his repertoire of skills, voice, and body into such a favorable outcome. He really could be as charismatic as Danny but without morals holding him back. And Wade liked it far more than he dared to admit, so soon after Paul had fixed his tie.  _ Holy mother, that was amazing.  _ “Welcome to the fold, doughboy,” the ferret said as Roland managed to walk out of the restroom with an uncomfortably mechanical walk. 

Once outside, the cream-colored tabby glanced around the parlor, trying to locate his father in the funeral activities. Finding him was easy, just look for the cat who looked like he belonged in this building, and so he did, taking a smoke break away from the guests. Just like Danny, Paul was curious about their father’s past, the cat knew far more than either of them anticipated a mortician should. He grimaced as he saw the movement of paparazzi along the windows, catching images of those celebrities trying to pay their respects.

“How are the parents doing?” Paul broke the ice, one paw in his pocket, the other with a paper cup of coffee he grabbed on the way outside

“As well as you think they are, especially with that surprise guest,” Samuel responded, letting out a cloud of smoke while his drawl was more evident, “Dunno what Daniel has told you but they’re already trying to seize her estate.”

“Already? Someone’s spooked, good. They’ll do something stupid and that’s when we’ll-” Paul whispered but was caught off-guard by Sam raising his paw in a stop gesture.

“You? None of you are doing anything. You’re all civilians, and you’ll pass the evidence along to the police. Let them do the arrests,” the mortician whispered right back in a commanding tone. How could his son, the one who looked the most like Aimee could be so brash? Then again, Aimee herself wasn’t the type to think things through in life.

“Them? Father, hate to break it to you but the officers here are dirty,” the mechanic chided.

“Dirty enough to change their reports by a good lay, I know,” Samuel shot back, causing his son to choke on his drink. 

“How did you-?”

“Boy, I had to work on those bodies, those weren’t ‘accidental deaths’. And there’s only one Animal coroner in this precinct,” Samuel’s annoyance was palpable, how DARE Paul think he’d be so stupid as to not put two and two together. “If you wanted to date someone in the death industry, I would’ve gladly set you up with someone.”

“ _ PLEASE _ , spare me the judgment…” 

“You could do so much better than a coroner!” Sam rolled his eyes, making Paul pause on the statement, and launched into a small diatribe, “State coroners are not worth your time, they’re overworked, underpaid, and they think they know better than one’s self. The police here are idiots, do you have any idea how much of a hassle it was to get Claudette’s incident report?!” It took the Louisiana native a few breaths to calm down, leaving his son stunned, “We’ll talk about it after the burial. I’ve been talking to the McDermids, they’re handling the court matters.”

“Dad, were you a coroner at some point?” was all Paul could muster after coming back from the shock.

“No, but I’ve had to work with them. I know what I’m talking about,” The Richardson patriarch huffed, pushed his hair back and resumed his usual stoic self, like a typical cat. It seemed like his sons’ impulsive and stubborn nature had another donor in the hereditary pool. “Ask your brother, I’m going back inside to tend to the…”

Father and son witnessed an early departure from the funeral as Lady Abernathy exited through the front doors and hailed a cab without so much as an acknowledgement of the cats’ existence. She seemed detached from the event, even though both Sam and Paul knew who she was with regards to the murder investigation. Lady Abernathy was the first witness to Claudette’s body and called the police to the scene. But what gave the Richardsons pause was the way she lingered at the taxi door, letting the flashes of light blind them both. She was deliberately stopping for the cameras, letting her neck and sunglasses shine in the setting sun…

“I have a gut feeling she knows more than she lets on,” Samuel murmured, both cats taking note of the way the ostentatious necklace around her plain black dress. “Her witness report fits almost too well, she recognized Claudette even through her assault.”

“I’ll see if Sawyer’s willing to talk to her,” Paul offered back, “Wade and I have a few cars to work on after the burial, but we’ll meet up at the parlor when it’s all done. And dad?”

“Yeah boy?”

“I’m not dating the coroner...not anymore... after those ‘accidents’ we sent your way,” the mechanic admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “You can relax. I’ll do better next time.” 

Sam exhaled the last of his smoke, “It’s not about doing better,” and tossed the remains into the trash, “It’s about the long term. Your mother and I learned that one the hard way. Don’t want to see our children make the same mistakes we did.”

“I thought you and mom loved each other,” the tabby frowned, confused at this piece of advice. All his life, Paul saw his parents as the happiest couple, doting on themselves and their children. Every day, there were fresh roses on the vases, they smiled, they joked around, they worked hard on their farm and funeral parlor.

“Oh, we did but she made a choice in the beginning that she knew wouldn’t be the best in the years ahead. There’s a reason your aunts barely wanted to know her children until you got sick,” Samuel elaborated with a heavy heart, remembering those desperate weeks of hearing his child cough uncontrollably, alone in a suddenly too-big house, “I went along with it because I could only imagine us growing old together. We didn’t need anyone else...but we both know how that ended up. I’ll see you inside,  _ Curieux _ .”

_ A widower, raising five children, and one of them becoming ill...that couldn’t have been easy _ , Paul thought as he remembered what meaning that last word had in the context, and smiled to himself. He could practically hear his mother’s jovial voice call him back inside with his father. 

While Paul was outside catching up with his father, Wade took the chance and sought out a particular guest. He knew he spotted Elena in the crowd and once he caught a glimpse of her bright red flower on her hat, he made a beeline to her seat. In part, he had to come down from the restroom incident by interacting with anyone else. He also wanted to check in on her since that night, now that at least one of those present at M&B was present at the funeral as well. She looked beautiful, but understandably saddened by being in the building. 

“Hi,” Wade greeted, trying to be as welcoming as possible. The day had been terrible, but she didn’t need that extra weight. He understood what Paul meant when he saved Roland: this whole ordeal was making everyone miserable.

“I’m not on the clock,” Elena spat back, recognizing the ferret from the shoot-out and immediately put her guard up. Of course the lout from the bar was here, she couldn’t catch a break. “You can have your date tonight if I feel like it.” 

_Why is everyone except for Danny and Sawyer treating me like garbage this week?_ _Then again, that’s Frenchie’s default so I shouldn’t read that much into it,_ the ferret huffed a bit before retorting, “I was gonna ask if you were doing okay but I’ll take a raincheck for that date.” Wade retorted before offering a smoke, “ _¿Quieres?_ ” 

Hearing the fellow ferret speak in Spanish, with an Iberian accent no less, surprised Elena into dropping some of her standoffish ways, “ _ No, gracias… _ I didn’t peg you for a continental.” 

“Mom’s the continental, I was born here. She taught me everything I know, and then some. You?” Wade had no qualms about his own mother, even if she wouldn’t be so proud of his journey to Hollywood.

“Folks came from La Paz, over in Baja California, looking for a better life...Good thing they didn’t see how I turned out,” she responded, looking to the floor. The implications were there as they watched Wesley and Bessie do their best to interact with the guests. By the stilted manner she talked, it was clear that she felt out of place but came anyway. The Simmons didn’t need a reminder of their daughter’s sordid last hours.

“I know that feeling,” the mechanic said under his breath, “That you let them down by making some terrible choices even after all they’ve sacrificed. That they don’t look at you the same way again. That you being there was a mistake.”

Elena’s eyes met Wade’s with a curious but understandably hesitant look, “Now how would you know about that? You seemed like a fine, upstanding citizen that lost his mind during an active shoot-out.” 

The quip made Wade chuckle with a hint of embarrassment as he answered, “I made my mistakes, got in trouble with the wrong crew, and my mother threatened to disown me if I didn’t shape up. When your entire family’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, the choice is made for you.” He still remembered his mother’s glare as she drove them back to their home and the desperation in her voice as she laid down the gauntlet.

“So what did you choose?”

“I decided I would rather be called a Momma’s boy and stay out of trouble,” Wade shrugged with a smirk, “That night notwithstanding.” Some of those old hellions still survived in him, but at least he had a way to channel those destructive tendencies. “What happened after we left?” 

“Same old routine: the police came by, asking what happened. We told them that someone got too rowdy and those two dead guys got caught in the scuffle. Ray and Velma didn’t mention you guys, but Ray’s waiting for those answers your cat friend promised,” Elena replied, “I gave them my word that you were good...I’m happy to tell them that you kept your promises. At least Sawyer did, I’ll have to see if Duvall’s any good.”

It took Wade a few moments to figure out which one of the Richardson cats would take that name but when he did, he assured, “His word’s good too, trust me on that. We’ll explain everything we have soon, but I gotta ask: was that mob cat…?”

Elena didn’t need the rest of the question to respond with a nod, “He was dating Claudette around the time she died. It was on and off, I would barely call it dating if it wasn’t for the letters and the photos she sent him. He has one hell of a temper, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

_ Those must be some of the letters Sawyer smuggled out that night,  _ Wade connected the information in his mind before continuing, “What else can you remember about the night Claudette was murdered? Was he there?” 

Once more, Elena answered with her head, “He was there, along with Mark and Quentin. It was the Grand Tour Jamboree, a special version of the Revue just for soldiers coming home from their service. Some of the guests got sloppy drunk and Barry had to escort them out. One of them riled Claudette up to the point of arguing, I didn’t see him before our other bouncer dragged him back to the bar. We stayed open until one in the morning...I offered Claudette a ride in my taxi for the night. She said no, she’d walk home…” As soon as those words left her lips, Elena’s eyes began to glass over in tears, “I should’ve insisted she came with me, I had this horrible feeling that something wasn’t right. I told her to stay safe and I’d see her the next day. I broke down when the news came out, I wanted to be wrong so badly...” 

Without a thought, Wade put his arm over the dancer’s shoulder, and offered her a tissue paper, “You can’t be stuck in the past, can’t be thinking about what you could’ve done differently. You’ll drive yourself nuts.” He swallowed down and lifted Elena’s face with his free hand, “I know this is a lot to ask but can you trust me and my friends? We’re not LAPD but we’re working our tails off to find who did this. We’re not gonna forget about her.”

That last sentence struck a chord in Elena, as her mind was transported back to a few months ago...

_ “Wow, look at you with an actual diamond necklace,” the ferret lady poked her head into the dressing room, grinning at Claudette’s shy smile, “Was it Kyle? Or Quentin? This looks like a Kyle gift.” _

_ “Mark actually,” the Spaniel lady blushed, “I think he really likes me, or has way too much money to spend. Dunno if I’ll keep it though.” _

_ “YES YOU ARE,” Elena exclaimed before clearing her throat, “Claudie, you can’t really be thinking of pawning that rock off for a bit of cash. You’re one of the Revue’s best dancers, you make rent every night the show’s on.” There was a bit of unintended bitterness in her voice, enough that Claudette stood up and hugged Elena tight. _

_ “You’re the Unforgettable Miss Eliana, the Thorned Flower, you make those guests swoon in ways I don’t think I ever will,” Claudette assured before admitting, “All the gifts in the world won’t matter if I’m forgotten as soon as they leave through the door.” _

The ferret lady stated outright as soon as she came back from her memory, “I think I have something that’ll help us out.” She supposed at least one of them was still in Claudette’s dressers, just like the letters Constance had hidden away. “I just hope the police didn’t take them during their initial search.”

“Huh?” Wade tilted his head in confusion, “Really? What is it?” It couldn’t be more letters, they would’ve been seized by the detectives. Maybe an address? Or something of value?

“Claudie’s diamond necklaces.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read this work! And thank you for the kudos!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: body horror and murder via dream, description of a funeral and burial, discussion of grief 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ August 19, 1942 _

_ Dear diary, _

_ I’m trying to hold myself together, trying to look forward to my big comeback to Hollywood, I’ve even gotten a lot better with my singing with Constance’s help. But every time I get a letter from Mark or Kyle, I feel a dark shadow over my spotlight. That something will pull me back and I won’t be able to escape. I have to make this work and then, when I’m far away, I’ll let the whole world know what a two-faced snake looks like. I’m gonna be free and I will apologize to everyone I hurt. _

The clock read five in the morning as Danny sat up from the bed, bleary-eyed. His head was pounding, his sleep had suffered from the terrible nightmare he kept having all night. Samuel had long since told his children that death was the source of so many terrors, it was natural to have them during times of duress. But this dream felt so tied to the murder, it was hard enough to explain. As he walked out of the room to get some water, he stopped to see Sawyer already up too.

“Did I wake you?” the Kokomo cat asked in a hushed tone, already apologetic. Sawyer shook her head, 

“I haven’t slept more than four hours at a time, keep having the same nightmare I’ve had all week, so no,” she responded, collecting her knees in an unconscious attempt at keeping herself secure, “You didn’t wake me.” Danny settled down beside her, wordlessly inviting her to share her nightmare. “I’m standing under a street light, watching Claudette being murdered, but I can’t move a muscle. I hear her screaming, it’s so horrible...and I can’t do a thing about it while her murderer disappears into the shadows. It’s only after he goes away that I can move and go over to her. What about you?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck and admitted, “In my nightmare, I’m back at the parlor’s morgue, with Claudette resting on the table with the sheet over her face. Dad’s not there, he went to get some coffee, I was just watching over for a bit and walked around.” He remembered how the head of the body seemed to follow him out of the corner of his eyesight, “Her lips start to move, but I can’t hear words, just sounds from her throat...When I pull back the sheet to see her face, it’s not hers I see.” The haunted look in his face gave Sawyer an idea who he saw on the table. “That’s when I wake up.”

It went unsaid that everything was bearing on their shoulders and Sawyer leaned over and placed her lips on Danny’s shoulder. Big gold eyes shone in the dark, to ground him back and remind him she was here for him. He sighed and returned the affection by kissing her forehead, an intimate response before he asked, “Do you think we’re over our heads?”

“Definitely,” Sawyer responded in her usual dry but caring tone, “But do you want to stop here and hand over what we have?” She caressed her lover’s cheek, giving him the unspoken chance to back away.

“Nope,” Danny responded, allowing the grotesque image in his dreams dissipate with the present. He could fall asleep now and wake up a few hours later, just being close to her. At least he could dream of the past, when he first met her.

A few hours later, both cats met their fellow mourners at the parlor, watching with solemn silence as Wesley carried his daughter for the last time. At first, it had been just him and the parlor’s own pallbearers, until Woolie took hold of the rail. Then came Cranston, his crotchety ways paused for the day, to help a fellow animal carry the unbearable weight. The ritual was photographed for onlookers to behold in the next day’s newspaper as every guest held the coffin along without hesitation, letting the Simmons know they were all there for their loss. 

The sky was sunny with a light overcast as the pastor pronounced the last rites on a soul that had touched so many lives without her ever knowing it. Bessie’s cries broke the meadow silence, pleading for one more minute with her “baby girl”, no sedation could break her grip on the cruel reality. A flower was tossed inside by every mourner before they backed away and allowed the family to grieve as they would. 

From where she stood a few feet away, Sawyer held her gaze towards the crowd, joined by her friends and collaborators in the investigation. Her tear-streaked cheeks didn’t quiver, her eyes then became fixed on where Claudette now rested in eternity. She didn’t need to turn away to know that Danny was keeping watch as well beside her, holding her paw in his. She wasn’t alone in this pain and in consoling Wesley and Bessie while they were there. 

A few hours later as the last shovel of soil was placed on the ground, both cats sat back at the now empty funeral parlor. The day had taken its toll on the actors, as Sawyer drifted asleep while they waited for their comrades to arrive from work. Neither Paul or Wade could really afford to close the shop for more than a day, even after Danny offered them to cover their wages from time to time.  _ “We’re not going to get a free ride on your back, Hollywood! We’ll make our own cash, but I don’t mind the free booze and food!” _ Wade’s joke echoed in the actor’s memory as he saw them arrive looking quite annoyed. 

“What happened to you guys?” Danny took a few discreet glances to the back, for any straying ears while Sawyer caught up with some sleep, as the two new guests settled down across their table. Paul responded, his accent far more prevalent from the displeasure,

“One of the cars we’re working on had a piece of junk passing for an engine part, we ended up having to jerry rig a way to pull it out. We would’ve come earlier but...”

“The engine sprayed oil everywhere,” Wade hissed under his breath as he grabbed a nearby napkin to wipe his hair clean. “Even the ceiling!” he lowered his voice, but he could tell Sawyer heard everything, as an impish little smile curled along her lips. It was this consideration that prompted the younger Richardson to ask in hushed tones,

“What’s our next move?” 

“We follow the leads Claudette left us: her diary, her letters, her estate, and anything else we can find,” Danny answered, determined to keep his promise. “The murderer was at the wake, I’m now very sure of it.” He didn’t know why he thought that, aside from his father’s very confident stance, but every fiber of his being told the cat he was right. “What did you guys find out on your own?”

“Elena claims Claudette had diamond necklaces as a sort of insurance policy should anything go pear-shaped,” Wade answered first, right after lighting a smoke, “She can’t be certain of the number she got in life but she’s for sure seen two of them and knows the location of one.”

The detail was a little surprise to Paul as he added, “Lady Abernathy probably has the other one too. Father and I saw her get into a cab just after you and Sawyer left. Her neck shone like a set of stage lights. I highly doubt a dance teacher, even one of her caliber, can afford that bauble. It’s a shot in the dark, I could be completely off, but the coincidence is too precise to not be the case.”

Danny frowned as he remembered the manner Sawyer described the dance teacher’s reaction to her former student’s profession. She would’ve derided Claudette’s choice in stages, her pride in her craft...so why would she have one of those necklaces in the first place? The memory of his nightmare came front and center for the actor, and a morbid detail came to mind. One he spoke out loud to his comrades,

“Claudette was beaten pretty badly, I almost didn’t recognize her when I saw her at the morgue...would you guys have picked her out from a line-up when you saw her in that state?” 

Both Paul and Wade went silent and shook their heads in response. They saw her just hours after her body was taken away by the police, with no reference in mind other than the picture Sawyer had as children. 

“Are you implying that the Lady doth lie in her alibi?” the Frenchcat quipped, crossing his arms in thought. 

“I’m implying that something about her story isn’t adding up,” Danny corrected his brother, just in case anyone was listening in on them, “She found Claudette’s body and recognized her quickly and certainly enough that the police were able to tell the press. Sawyer says that the photo she has, it was the last time the class was all together. That was in 1932, so unless Lady Abernathy can just guess her students’ appearances after ten years, she’s hiding something.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sawyer’s sleepy voice interrupted the trio with a yawn, “We all knew she was taking money on the side: bigger bids, bigger part in the routine. Maude was always front center thanks to Daddy Bigbucks.”

“But you were better-”

“ _ Claudette _ was better than any of us in Ballet, but Wes was blue-collar, he scraped together every cent to pay the dues. He couldn’t afford the under the table fees,” the actress clarified, “We practiced every day after school at my dad’s office just before dance class…” It might’ve been decades ago but Sawyer still remembered.

_ “Thank you for taking care of Claudie, Mr. McDermid,” Wesley blurted out loud, holding his hat and head down. As he extended a small wad of bills, Thomas held up his paw and smiled, _

_ “You better not be paying me for picking up your baby girl from school and letting her play with her best friend.” _

_ “I am, it’s an honorable thing to do. An attorney like you-” _

_ “A fellow animal isn’t about to charge for being there for a family friend. Wes, it’s all right, and besides, Claudie and Sawyer practice their routines here,” the Persian cat then leaned to the side with a grin, “After they’ve done their homework, right?” _

_ Having been caught, both Claudette and Sawyer sprinted to the empty office where they were supposed to be doing their schoolwork, giggling along the way. They were so sneaky, how could they get caught? _

“What about your dad?” Wade asked, curious with a slightly cynical take, “Did he ever pay to have you play a more important part?” It wasn’t hard to assume that an attorney, even an animal, could make a considerable amount of money in comparison to an old-time heir to a fortune. 

Sawyer shook her head, and stated point-blank, “He didn’t need to: he had confidence in me.” The implications were far reaching for the three friends and now Danny understood his lover’s sour interactions with Maude. If anything, it explained her determination to make it to stardom by  _ her  _ merits. The irony wasn’t lost on them: one cat’s name was up in lights because she made the arduous climb, the other never left the easy comforts of obscurity. She turned her head to Danny, “Betcha lunch she’s at the studio right now...I didn’t see her at the graveyard. Probably working in an empty studio.” 

The actor grimaced at the instructor’s callous actions but had learned that Hollywood was different, it wasn’t just the salacious news reporting. “Are you sure you wanna go?” 

“I’ll be sure tomorrow, I’d rather have today to just exist,” Sawyer answered, slipping a little joke for his ears, “Not gonna make you carry me home this time.”

Danny rolled his eyes with a timid blush on his face, a detail neither mechanic missed, making them smile a little, “I would’ve offered anyways.” The closeness between the group was evident as they breathed in the silence the parlor offered for a while. The hustle of Hollywood continued, ignorant of the day’s events, just another day passing by, waiting for them to meld back into the land. 

Paul was the first to stand up and patted both his brother and his girlfriend on the back, “I’ll see what I can get from Roland. I’ll treat you to dinner, the least I could do given everything.” For all his acerbic ways, he did care about his friends enough to take on some of the weight that comes with grief. 

“Roland? The soldier?” Danny looked confused, he hadn’t remembered actually contacting the dog...unless, “Paul, you didn’t.” It was hard for an older brother to feel like his relationship advice was chucked into a trashcan, even his younger sibling had no obligation to actually follow it.

“I didn’t,” the cream-colored tabby assured, “At least not in  _ that  _ way. He wants to help, in his own misguided way. I let him in.” He wasn’t about to reveal the lightly underhanded means West tried to get his foot in the door. 

“I’ll remind Frenchie this wasn’t a unanimous decision and doughboy has yet to prove he’s not about to screw us over if all hell breaks loose,” Wade quipped, prompting Paul to stick his tongue like a petulant child. 

“Neither was including Elena but-”

“Girls, you’re both very clever,” Sawyer cut both bickering friends, a smirk finally gracing along her face since the funeral, “If Danny doesn’t have an issue with both Elena and Roland, I don’t see an issue. They might have their own secrets, this town runs on them, remember?” 

All three turned their heads to face the orange tabby and hear his thoughts. Danny let out a chuckle and nodded, “The more the merrier, and at least we’re all looking for the same ending to this story: finding Claudette’s murderer and letting her have some justice.” The look he had was that of a confident cat, weighed only with the experience that came from two years of ups, downs, and facing the consequences of his mistakes. He might no longer have been the innocent starry eyes from when he came to Hollywood, but like his family, Danny Richardson was a force of nature to be reckoned with once he had a goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read and supporting this work! And thank you for the kudos!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: some light cursing in Spanish, implied prostitution 
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ September 15, 1940 _

_ To the Lady in Red, _

_ Tell me, how much would I have to pay to have you for a weekend? You and I could go sailing off the beach, with no eyes on us. You sunbathing, and I spoil you like the queen you are. I’ll pay anything you want, but tell me when. We’ll meet where we usually do, just you, me and my weekender.  _

_ \- MS  _

Danny was sure of one thing as he worked on the next morning’s breakfast: Closure was a journey, winding along, with obstacles ranging from pebble-sized concerns about the weather, to boulder monoliths that stopped progress altogether. But those obstacles could be overcome with help. He got up a little earlier that morning to pick up some sunflowers for her bedside table, so her day started a little kinder than yesterday. It apparently worked as he felt a kiss on his cheek, and a happy sigh to greet him.

“Remind me to bribe St. Peter at the gates to let you in as an unofficial saint,” she purred, dressed in an A-line dress and carrying a pair of ballerina slippers in her bag. She looked like she was headed to an audition for some dance production rather than a set. 

“Or at least cut off some time in the afterlife waiting room,” he quipped right back, reminding Sawyer his paws weren’t that squeaky clean. “You think you’re going to use those when we meet Lady Abernathy?” 

“The old crone might get testy if we drop in unannounced so shortly after Claudette’s funeral. Figured our excuse should be that we’re looking for a new place to practice,” the Persian explained as she stole a piece of toast, “We do a quick routine, something to show her we mean business, then ask if we can visit more often and we leave for work. Not even gonna mention Claudette.” Her short tone of voice belied a more cynical take on the matter, as if she expected more trouble before work. “Remember, we have that dinner date with Maude and her husband this weekend...thinking we could give them one of Paul’s wines?” 

Danny shrugged, “I don’t see a problem but I’m thinking  _ he _ might have one with it. He keeps them for special occasions.”  _ Or sweetening the deal with his ex, it’s hard to tell _ , he thought, already trying not to accuse his brother of being far more conniving than how he really was. He unconsciously paced around, as if trying to ground his thoughts with movement. Now it was time to start really digging into Claudette’s past and reconstruct her last weeks alive, as there was no chance of ever spotting the killer out in the open again. “It’ll be nice to spend a night away from Hollywood, don’t you think?”

“Anything to get away from this mess sounds good to me, tiger, now get dressed,” Sawyer responded, “We got a long day ahead.” 

Lady Abernathy’s Dance School looked just like Sawyer remembered it as a kitten: opulent velvet curtains draping by the sides of a giant window, with old posters lining the walls while hardwood floors echoed with the metronome taps of a cane. The window made every practice a show, as the commuters passing by could stop and watch a performance with glass keeping them separate, new students dancing like clockwork dolls. Both cats could hear the count of every beat along with a  _ Nutcracker _ vinyl record as they opened the door. 

“ _ Un, deux, trois, quatre! _ Move it along, or it’s thirty  _ enpointes _ !” Lady Abernathy ordered between each tap, catching Danny off-guard for some reason and making him frown. Sawyer would’ve asked what was on his mind when the tapping and the music stopped. 

“Well, what a darling surprise,” the older doe greeted her guests with a stone face and dripping antipathy as her students whispered in excitement to see two actual stars in  _ their _ studio, “I didn’t expect a former student of mine to simply drop by while she has far more pressing projects in mind. After so many years of course.” 

Sawyer long since braced for this day ever since she learned that Lady Abernathy was the first one to identify Claudette’s body. She dreaded the judgment of her past, of being a stubborn cat who spoke up whenever she was picked as understudy to Maude. The contempt might as well be a fog that clouded her more rational thoughts but she could face her old teacher. She curtsied, “My apologies, this city doesn’t allow for many breaks between work.”

“ _ Quel enfant gâté _ , at least the work you’ve gotten doesn’t require much technique, or I would’ve declared your father’s investment a wasted effort,” Abernathy remarked, to Danny’s dismay and Sawyer’s simmering anger, prompting him to say as both part of the plan and a metaphorical olive branch,

“Well, about that...we’d like to use your studio for future practice.”

“ _ Vous devez clairement _ , your skills are unrefined at best, I’ve seen the movies,” Lady Abernathy wasted no time zeroing in on Danny’s own insecurities as soon as she spoke. “Raw talent, barely a structure to use it well. Pity.” 

For a moment, the orange tabby could hear his maternal aunts grilling him those rare moments they ever visited. That he was too rebellious, that his skills were squandered, that he wouldn’t amount to anything more than a talent show for having no name or money, just a disgraced mother and the selfish father that took her down to shameful anonymity. But unlike the new batch of students, and maybe even Sawyer’s old class, Danny raised his head and met Lady Abernathy’s eyes with a steady expression. He’s heard all of this before.

Sawyer’s previous anger became determination as she then offered, “We can do a little routine, see where we’re lacking, and you tell us if we can stick around.” She even presented her ballet shoes as a show of good faith. 

Lady Abernathy paused to consider the suggestion then grinned, “ _ Trés bien _ , you won’t use those though. Girls, clear the floor, we might have a bit of a show of arrogance,” the doe commanded, making the animal students spread out along the walls. “Shall I close the windows then? To prevent prying eyes from seeing this unplanned sequence?”

The smirk on Sawyer’s lips was evident as she shook her head, fully knowing that what she and Danny were about to perform would raise some eyebrows. The Homegrown Revue inspired her to take this risk as both cats warmed up and the Persian picked out the record from the stack:  _ Swan Lake _ . As soon as the actor saw it, he murmured with a grin, “What are we dancing this wonderful morning, Odette?” Danny knew which routine she was gunning for, it was one of the first he and Sawyer used to practice duets for the movies, among other things. 

“Odile this time around and don’t skimp out on me, Sigfried,” Sawyer answered as their Adage began to play. 

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Each beat landed their mark, as their toes held their entire weight with each point. They moved in synchronized steps, going forward as both Danny and Sawyer used each other as guides, as support, and a means to express their roles. What neither Lady Abernathy or her now captivated audience expected was the intimacy at full display. The two dancers seemed to channel something private with every touch they shared, from lifting ‘Odile’ to the way she leaned her head to ‘Sigfried’s’ in a whisper. They understood the elements in their roles, the dynamics and ran with them to make it a performance Lady Abernathy wouldn’t forget. By the third lift, the instructor hurriedly closed her curtains before her studio was gawked at while her students sat mesmerized and silent. That quick break in eye contact allowed Danny to look into any open doors and spot anything that didn’t belong in a dance studio. It was hard to tell but he could’ve sworn he saw a lacquered box hidden along the many records, one that could hold the necklace Paul and Wade described the day before. Sawyer caught a gap between all the movie and production posters, as if there used to be one there, but now it was gone. 

By the time they finished, both Danny and Sawyer were panting but extremely satisfied with their routine. They laughed knowingly at each other before turning their attention to the dance teacher. 

“So, are we in?” Sawyer asked, already hoping the answer fell in line with their plans. 

“Only if you never do that again,” Lady Abernathy hissed, clearly embarrassed that one of her former students not only stepped up to the challenge, with an untrained partner, but dared to show her up in a surprisingly carnal rendition of Odile’s Entry of Swan Lake. “Now leave, I have a class to teach.” 

“Great! We’ll see you on Wednesday!” the Kokomo cat blurted out before Sawyer pulled him out of the studio by the tie. As soon as they left, Danny had to ask as he fixed his clothes and straw hat, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” No use beating around the bush, not after that performance. 

“Absolutely,” the Persian answered, with her catharsis over everything from being named understudy to Maude for no good reason to that moment finally released, “That felt better than all the movies I’ve ever done. Did you spot something interesting?” 

“Plenty, but we’re really gonna need that visit if we’re gonna get at that necklace and see if it’s anything like Elena claims she’s seen,” and yet, the frown returned to Danny’s jovial face, but at least this time, he could express why, “I was right, something’s not adding up with Lady Abernathy.” 

“Do tell?” 

“I’ll tell you after today’s shoots, I need to be sure of it before I blab on,” the tabby assured with a kiss and heading off to his lot, “Break a leg, Sawyer! Let’s meet at the auto shop!”

Sawyer’s lips never stopped smiling as she waved back, “You too, Danny!”

Meanwhile at the shop, there was far more chaos than just an impromptu dance routine as Samuel discovered, visiting his younger son and best friend at their workplace. There was a racket of falling debris and clattering that culminated in a string of curse words spoken with a familiar language.

“ _¡_ _ HIJO DE LA GRAN RAMERA _ -” Wade yelled at the top of his lungs as his wrench somehow managed to break the head off, prompting him to chuck it against the wall. 

“Son, my Spanish isn’t great but I know you didn’t just insult someone’s mother,” Sam was unamused, arms crossed and watching Wade sputter into standing up straighter than a ruler. 

“Mr. Richardson! I-” the ferret cleared his throat, in an attempt to be presentable to the cat that practically raised him as one of his own. Wade grew up with the Richardsons, knowing that in some way, they helped his mother come to America and make a new life. He should at least take care to look like he cared about how he looked.

“I’ve told you and your mother a million times to call me Sam,” the mortician chuckled as he rolled up his sleeves to help out. It helped that his clothes were almost always black or dark colored, hiding ghastly stains for the most part. “What’s wrong with this thing?” he might not know a lot about cars but he would listen to someone who did. 

“Better to ask what  _ isn’t  _ wrong with it at this point,” Wade sighed, “Me and Frenchie,” he caught the mistake when he saw one of the patriarch’s eyebrows shoot up, “Paul and I have been working on this thing for a week now and every time we get something fixed, at least three more problems pop up.”

“We’ve been trying everything we’ve learned from shop, even borrowed an owner’s manual from the local car dealers,” Paul made his entrance known, his bandages freshly changed for the time being, “Some fixers we are, this hunk of scrap is only one in the line we have waiting to tend to. Claudette’s murder put another delay in the schedule and we’ve been trying to catch up ever since.”

All three animals stared at the vehicle, as if it would inspire some sort of solution in their brains. The car was a Super Deluxe from three years prior, with its candy red paint slightly dented, unable to hide its’ used nature. Faint oil stains were still present from the discharge that splattered the entire workspace, a fact not missed by Samuel.

“What did it originally come in for, boys?” the oldest cat in the room inquired, already leaning in to examine some of the loose parts. He remembered how these two would always be hovering around his two Ford cars: the heavy duty AA truck and his modified hearse. Wade wouldn’t mind getting his paws dirty, while Paul would fetch every tool he needed. 

“Came in for a brake check, then it just got worse from there,” his son responded, patting the sides of the vehicle, “It’s as if the poor thing was held together with tape and glue. One wrong move and it falls apart and I know for a fact this car’s model isn’t the problem.” It’s been their personal puzzle as of late. “It belongs to a big-shot producer here, I can’t remember their name at the moment but who cares? I want to burn it in some ditch in the desert.”

“...Both your mothers tended to resort to threatening arson when things didn’t go their way,” Sam quipped, “Aimee and Cata would have that destructive look in their eyes, and strangely, all the matches would disappear.” Or at least until their temper subsided. It prompted another question, “Did it come used or just bought?”

Wade thought about that for a second before getting a small ledger from the toolbench and read out loud, “Uh, the guy bought it as almost new, then he had to replace some parts, a few months passed and that’s when he started to notice his brakes were acting up.”

Looking at the parts they already extracted, all still covered in oil, the ferret had a lightbulb turn on in his head. “Hey Paul, do we still have those original brake plates from the Coup?”

“You mean your barely functioning wreck? Yes, why?”

“Wait, you STILL have that old bug?” Samuel’s disbelieving stare was the icing on the cake for Wade’s automobile frustration, “Good lord, that thing should’ve died with the Prohibition.”

“My car is a well-oiled functioning machine! It got us outta Kokomo and M&Bs just fine! Did my car hurt or insult you cats in any way?” Wade hissed under his breath, “First Paul, then Danny, and now you sir!”

The ferret realized he sassed the cat that was basically his father figure when he saw Paul’s eyes widen, clutch the requested part in a death grip, and part of his face lost color.  _ Me jodí _ , he thought, bracing for impact he rightly deserved for being a brat. Instead, Samuel burst into hearty laughter, dissipating the tension immediately as he dismissed the rant, “Boy, I’m just concerned that ol’ thing’s gonna fall apart with one more sharp turn. Now why’d you need ‘em brakes?”

“Er, I have a hunch,” Wade cleared his throat and examined both the original and the one he already extracted from the car. Holding one in each paw, his face went from a concerned frown to an enlightened smile. He then glanced at the parts’ side and smirked, “And I think I’m right. Frenchie,”

“What?” Paul was right back to being irked as he hated that nickname, and more so with his father present. He watched as Wade wiped his paws clean and wrote down a series of letters and numbers on a scrap of paper. 

“I need you to call Haverly’s Car Parts and any other place we got on the books and ask ‘em about this serial number. Whatever they tell you, write it down,” Wade elaborated, before turning to Samuel, “Sir, if you don’t have anything on your docket, mind helping me getting some of these parts out?”

The feline mortician nodded, putting his tie to the side for safety reasons, “I’ve got no bodies to work on, nothing to do while I’m here, tell me what to do, Angel.” All of this had the Frenchcat wonder out loud, with an annoyed tone, 

“What do you have in mind, Wade? I better not be playing secretary to a wild goose chase.”

“I’m thinking there’s a reason this car keeps falling apart and if my hunch is right, we’re gonna have a better idea of what’s going on,” the ferret grinned, “Besides, you need to brush up on your people skills. You’ve gotten a little rusty.”

There was a moment of disdain in Paul’s face before he turned tail and went to the front desk to start the calls, grumbling something about not being some telephone maid to a Spaniard and being late to a military-style lunch. “What exactly am I looking for, Wade?”

“We’re looking for fakes, my dear Watson: these parts are counterfeits! Someone out here is selling fake parts and making our lives a living hell,” Wade beamed, finally putting this mess to rest so he could finally give Claudette’s case the attention it deserved. “Who knows? They might even be local!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for your kudos and stopping by and taking the time to read, supporting this work!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussion of prostitution, discussion of grief, allusions to intimacy
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ August 18, 1942 _

_ Dear Diary,  _

_ I wanted to say yes. I wanted to start anew. But I couldn’t say it right away and I think he could tell. He has the sweetest eyes, when he smiles, it’s like I can see the endless forests where he comes from. He’s not the most exciting out of my lovers but he gives me something that others can’t: a home. I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be happy after what I did, and yet, I find myself willing to give up the money, the jewels, the glitz and glamour just to hear the rustling of redwoods, the bubbling creeks. The chance to finally hear my heart beat for someone who returns the sensation. I don’t know if we’ll even last as long as we both hope we do, but it doesn’t matter. _

_ My Root-toot-toot soldier, the reason I’m willing to expose everything I’ve ever done. I’m sorry I didn’t answer you when you asked, but in these pages, I say: yes. _

_ \- Claudette _

That lunch was going to start late anyways as Paul found out, checking his watch for the tenth time in the last hour. But it at least allowed him some alone time to think about what the hell was he doing in all this and with his life. Life in LA was certainly more exciting than anything in Kokomo and sometimes that wasn’t the best thing. Claudette’s murder reminded him of this fact and a part of him worried about Danny and Sawyer becoming entangled in that seedy underbelly. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Roland’s voice broke Paul out of his thoughts, “Drills went a little longer than I thought and the bus ran late...Are you all right?” Dressed in training fatigues and looking like he ran a marathon just to get here, the Alsatian soldier still had some classic handsomeness from the old movies. Not the worst sight to behold, in the Frenchcat’s opinion, but he’d reserve his judgment until he could hear the soldier speak more than one sentence.

Paul joked, “I’m fine, you look a tad sunkissed,” as he quietly put away everything he was pondering back into his mental drawer, “How have you been doing?” 

West cleared his throat at the compliment, hiding some shyness, as he sat down to at least glance at the menu, “Thank you, I think...Can I be honest?”

“By all means,” the mechanic offered and ordered a few sodas for their meal. This might’ve been an information expedition but Paul wasn’t so heartless to just dive into the matter. There was something oddly charming about Roland, he could understand why Claudette was attracted. It reminded Paul of a country dog, just being bluntly themselves and trying to be a better citizen. 

“Terrible. I thought maybe joining you guys would make me feel better, like I’m doing something. All I’m really doing is run around in circles when I’m not in drills, and think if I had just come by earlier...if I had requested my leave one week before my corps ...Maybe I could’ve, I don’t know, caught on quicker.”

“Stop right there, doughboy,” Paul snapped his fingers before wagging his index, “Don’t do that. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that’s a spiral you don’t want to go down.” Taking advantage of the stunned silence, he continued, “You had no idea what was going on, you were out on a service tour, how could you have known what Claudette was going through. You were an ocean away. If you think you could’ve been her knight in shining armor, you...” he wanted to say that Roland was delusional but that would’ve been too cruel. “you would never live up to the ideals you’d put on yourself.”

“...Do you know from experience?” Roland inquired, still trying to be more comfortable talking about these matters. His response was a simple nod and a shrug.

“To pretend otherwise would be me trying to sell you a bridge, Private.” Paul missed the way Roland’s eyes avoided contact with his, more so when the sodas arrived, “Do you trust me?”

“You saved my life,” was the short, hesitant answer the soldier gave. It was evident that Roland wanted to answer yes, but common sense told him otherwise. 

Paul frowned and shook his head, having heard that same answer before, “... _ Mon cher soldat _ , you shouldn’t confuse compassion for trustworthiness. Now answer: do you trust me?” Now it was Roland’s turn to shake his head slightly, prompting a smile on Paul’s lips, “Good, because if anything, I’d like to earn that trust. This place is full of people and animals with more than one face, and right now, it’s looking like this murder will inevitably be pinned on you. Have the police interrogated you?”

“...Yeah, how’d you know that?” West responded, frowning now.

“Strangely enough, my brother was the one who suspected it, glad to see his wit’s still sharp as ever,” the cream tabby pointed out, “How long were you and Claudette an item?”

It was a fairly innocent question but given what the soldier had answered, he still harbored so much love for the dancer. “A year and some change...I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting myself into. She called me Quentin, after my hometown in Oregon. She knew I was going on combat tours with a chance of never coming back, I knew she had to keep food on the table.” Brown eyes stared at the half-full soda, “I never blamed her for it...that first night, she gave me the wildest ride-” he stopped himself with a cough, “She was a really good dancer.”

Paul’s expression was kinder now, paying attention to Roland’s subtle changes as he went through memory lane, “The mattress mambo’s always a fun dance to enjoy. We’re both adults here, West, and pretty sure we both left our virginities in our home towns.” The candor made the Alsatian turn a bright pink before continuing his version of events,

“Er, yes, well...Claudette did that and I suppose we sort of had a spark between us. I kept asking for her whenever I was stationed here, I kept wanting to see her. I always brought her a souvenir, a little trinket here and there. She wrote me letters, sometimes with pictures.”  _ Well, no wonder _ , Paul thought as he continued to listen, “My fellows kept telling me that I was being used, that I shouldn’t fall in love. And then, one day, she welcomed me home from a tour.”

_ Roland was trying his best to smile as he got out of the bus, knowing that all that awaited him was an empty apartment, cheap food, and a bottle of even cheaper whiskey. Maybe even a quick visit to M&B’s… _

_ Then he saw a cardboard sign bouncing around in the crowd with his name written in fountain paintbrush. Claudette wasn’t the tallest lady dog, but she could truly make an impression.  _

_ “Welcome home, Root-toot-toot!” she exclaimed, so full of life that she jumped into Roland’s arms.  _

“The moment I hugged her, I felt at home,” the Alsatian’s voice broke, the memory giving way to the present, “The next time I came back to Los Angeles, I asked her if she wanted to go steady with me. She was different then.”

“What did she say?” the mechanic cat inquired, his heart heavy now knowing how much joy Claudette brought to this one soldier only to have it brutally taken away.

“She didn’t answer right away...She had this haunted look about her when I asked. I promised her that I wouldn’t have much but I would’ve made sure she was happy and safe,” Roland frowned at the memory, “I think whatever she was hiding, it was eating her from the inside. That break was the first and only time she ever let me in her apartment. We had a passionate night there, and I dunno, I didn’t want to leave. That was the break before my regiment was headed out, and before she...”

Paul barely kept his surprise hidden, but his brain was already on high alert with this new batch of information.  _ Oh CRAP, Roland had been in Claudette’s place. No wonder the police want  _ **_him_ ** _ to be the fall guy: he’s perfect _ . That train of thought was interrupted by a quiet sob, when the cat saw his guest’s eyes well up. 

“I told her I loved her and I’d be coming back for her. As soon as I came back from overseas, I applied for early discharge, just one more tour and we could try to make it work. I even told her so before she went for her last show, the Grand Tour Jamboree, then,” in that moment, Paul’s paw reached over and took Roland’s in, holding onto it with a gentle grip. 

“Then your world fell apart,” the Frenchcat empathized, “Leaving you hollowed out. You were finally settling down with the one animal that made your heart leap,” He knew that feeling so intimately that it stung. “Why did you go to M&B’s that night?”

“Something inside me died with her,” Roland admitted, “I went there because it was the Homegrown Revue, the same show Claudette and I met so long ago now. I could’ve stayed in the base, I’d just gotten interrogated by the police...they couldn’t keep me due to lack of evidence I think? Then you and your crew showed up at Magnusson’s.” Which reminded the soldier, “Is your shoulder doing better?”

The question surprised Paul into a tiny sincere smile, “It is, thanks for asking. We were following the trail Claudette left in her wake.” He didn’t dare tell West he was the cat’s assigned target to gather information, “I do hope your reflexes are better now than then...I can’t spare another arm, thank you.”

The quip made Roland gulp down his soda and apologize, “Sorry, I promise, my aim’s much better than that.” But it brought up a question that plagued the army dog, “What  _ do _ you do? I…” Before he could continue, Paul held a finger to Roland’s lips and winked before he responded, 

“I fix things and that’s all you need to know. I do mess up quite a bit but I try my best and my best is grand.”  _ I’m nowhere near the jack-of-all-trades Danny is, I can’t fire a weapon with the same efficiency as Wade, and my charisma can only get me so far _ , Paul recognized his own failings before focusing on the present and withdrawing his paw, “We’re going to meet at De Los Santos’ Auto Shop, you should come with us.”

Roland hesitated, stunned at that sudden contact, it was surprisingly nice, “...Is that ferret guy gonna be there?”

“Wha-” the Frenchcat made a face before rolling his eyes, “You mean Wade? He’s all bark and no bite.”

“Well, I’m a dog, and I know that saying, but I’m gonna have to respectfully disagree, Sir,” the soldier shot back, “I saw what he did at the bar, I don’t want another gun pointed to my head within the same month.” It was a hailstorm of bullets he and his regiment managed to avoid by what seemed divine providence. 

To assuage Roland’s concerns, Paul assured him by talking from his own experiences, “When Wade was in school, he won first and second places in marksmanship competitions. Every shot he takes, it’s with an intended target. If he wanted you six feet under, you would be. He’s just...being a mother-henny blowhard. We’re all in this same case, and I think he would be moved to hear your side.” 

West conceded, “If you say so, I’m still gonna take precautions,” before he acknowledged, “I don’t think I’ve been properly able to talk about this, with anyone.”

“Murder’s an unsavory business, and no one really comes out of it a winner,” Paul remarked, knowing that even Claudette’s killer would have to deal with the fallout sooner or later. “And I do make you a promise Pvt. West: once we have a name…”

The sorrow in Roland’s eyes steeled up to a quiet, simmering rage, “I’m gonna need a room alone with them.” That request was serviceable, and what the soldier intended to do was probably not the most surprising outcome. But the Frenchcat quickly tempered that anger with one simple request as he stood up to lead the way back to the auto repair shop,

“Keep them alive, have them face her parents, her friends. What good is an eye for an eye, doughboy, if it means all our hard work goes down the toilet? You’re better than that, soldier.” He silently motioned the Alsatian to follow him. “Or I could simply appeal to your better nature. My brother has a gift for that one: making people and animals be better versions of themselves. It’s almost obnoxious.”

“Did it work on you?” Roland asked out of a developing sense of camaraderie with Paul. He figured he’d take his chances.

“Every damn time, or else I wouldn’t be here.” 

“END SCENE! Good job today everyone!” was the finishing call of the day, as Flannagan concluded the days’ shoot and dismissed the cast and crew for  _ I Dream of Marigolds _ . The curfew was still in place, by orders of Mr. Mammoth as a precaution to keep his investors happy. Claudette’s burial did relieve some tension but many of the animal starlets were still concerned for their safety. Nothing was more evident of this fact as Danny’s co-star sighed out as he escorted her out to her cab. 

“Wish they’d catch the killer, why haven’t we heard anything from the police?” “Matilda”, real name Melissa Catwright, murmured, holding her house keys right, “What if it’s really a serial killer on the loose?”

“I dunno,” Danny sighed out, doing his best to keep his own investigation a secret, “I mean, if it was a serial killer, wouldn’t he have struck again? Maybe it’s just the one murder.” 

Melissa scoffed slightly with no real bite to it, “You really are a country cat, aren’t you? Hollywood isn’t like that: things get out of hand really quick in these parts. Maybe it is the one killer, but I heard from Glitzy’s show last week someone started shooting up the last place the dame was last seen in. Two dead lowlives later, and no one knows who fired the first shot, but apparently, they were aiming for the dancers.”

_ Oh that’s just peachy: our M&B mess made it to Glitzy Cockatoo’s show _ , Danny inwardly chided himself, before responding, “Wow, things really heat up in this part of the world! Did she say anything about what happened to the dancers?”

Melissa shook her head, “Not really, everything’s kinda tight-lipped, even the police aren’t commenting on the matter. Puts every animal lady like me on edge.”

If the Kokomo cat could do anything, it was trying to ease his coworker’s worries in any way he could, as he opened the car door for her, “Then I’ll gladly keep walking you to your cab for as long as this mess isn’t solved.” He even offered her a smile to ease her worries. 

“Careful, you might make your beau Sawyer jealous with that kind of talk,” the Angora cat flirted before slipping into her ride and waving goodbye. Danny would’ve turned tail to head over to Sawyer’s lot before he saw a familiar Coupe ride beside him. It was even more evident of who the car belonged to once the windows were rolled down,

“Wade? What are you doing here?”

“I just dropped off your dad at the parlor again, apparently they liked his work on Claudette and the two dead guys Paul’s ex fudged up for us. Came to pick you and Lady Legs up, hop in,” the ferret answered, grinning slightly at the glare he got in return, “Oh come on, you have to admit Sawyer’s got a pair.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny rolled his eyes before getting into the vehicle’s passenger seat, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t go around...commenting about that...to my face.” Was he a hypocrite for calling Wade out on being a lout towards Sawyer and not, say, Elena? Probably, but it still bothered Danny to have someone he loved be reduced to that. 

Before the ferret could make a sarcastic remark, he took one look at his best friend’s face and noted how uncomfortable it all was, “For you, Dan the Cat? I’ll be a saint around her.”

It was Danny’s turn to scoff, “Careful, you might have lightning strike you down for that big lie. That isn’t you in the slightest, I’m just asking that you, you know, not be so crass?”

“No promises, but I can try. I like her, she’s much better than your last date in Kokomo,” Wade replied as he drove, “At least Sawyer’s got a good head on her shoulders.” The two animals drove in silence for a minute while they navigated the lots before Wade asked with a smirk, “So when did you guys take it further than what the tabloids say?”

No further explanation was needed as Danny smacked his paw on his forehead to hide the embarrassment, “Where is that lightning when I need it?”

“HA! I KNEW IT!” the ferret barked in laughter. 

Danny harrumphed, and finally blurted it out to finally be free of the speculation by his closest friend, “It happened on location in New York, a year ago, now can you and Paul please stop asking? We have more pressing matters!”

“Aww, all right then! Glad to know our little Hollywood’s all grown up,” Wade continued in his joking around. He was going to get all the mileage he could out of this one.

“I finally get why my brother wants to keep you safe and punch you in the throat if given the chance,” the actor pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before Sawyer herself arrived from her own project. By spotting her boyfriend’s mortified expression and his best friend’s wide grin, she could something embarrassing tell what happened, so she simply stated after kissing Danny and slipping to the backseat,

“Whatever you two were talking about, he’s better than you.”

“You don’t even know that, toots,” Wade shot back, not appreciating the wound to his ego. 

“And I don’t need to,” Sawyer smirked, “besides, it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business if Danny could get hurt in any way,” the ferret joked with a slight edge, unofficially declaring his spot as the oldest of the three friends and in a way protecting them. He knew what young love could do to a giving heart; he lived it enough times back in Kokomo. 

“You talk like you’re his brother, not his best friend,” the Persian pointed out, watching as her lover slipped further into the passenger’s seat. “It’s not the worst, but you should really mind your manners.”

Wade let out a harsh bark of a laugh, “You never had someone be the nagging older friend in your group? The spoil-sport?”

The ride went relatively silent as Sawyer turned her sight to the passing roads, “...I was that nagging older friend. Claudette was the one who threw herself into everything. She didn’t care about the consequences.” In her mind, she thought,  _ I wonder if she knew every day counted for her _ . 

_ “Come on, Sawyer, it’s just this one house party,” Claudette said, already toying with the lipstick she “borrowed” from her mother, a scandalous bright red color meant for anniversaries. They were coursing their junior year in high school, and the fact that the Traintrack Heiress invited them was a big deal to everyone in class. _

_ “Yeah, the one house party at Maude’s place, where we both know boys will be there. No thank you,” Sawyer retorted, giving her best friend a cautious look, “I’m staying home and you should too. I got a bad feeling about that party, I don’t know why...I don’t want our parents to worry.” _

_ “Our parents won’t notice! We’ll go in, have a few laughs, do a little dancing-” Claudette insisted before meeting her friend’s eyes, and backed down, “Sorry. I didn’t-” The hurt in those golden eyes told the Spaniel everything she needed to know why Sawyer was so uncomfortable with the party. She saw the way Maude went up to the basketball team and extended an invitation to one particular player. One who was so enchanted by the allure of being at the party that he forgot he had broken up with her best friend a few weeks prior. _

_ Sawyer shook her head, “It’s all right, you know how Maude is. She can’t help herself.” Those last few words made her wince, unable to hide her disdain over the whole thing. “Doug’s having fun at least.” Maude couldn’t just let things lie, she had to slip herself into what her friends were doing. She did the same with Dotty, casually asking her now ex-boyfriend to come to the movies with her. _

_ Without much thought, Claudette put away her lipstick, turned on the radio and tuned it to a sappy soap opera to settle down next to her friend. “Wanna drink something warm and listen?” _

_ “I thought you were all ready to go to Maude’s party,” Sawyer asked, raising an eyebrow at the sudden change of heart. _

_ “She’ll probably do another one next big holiday. We just had a lot of homework,” the lady dog replied with a little smile, “Right?” _

_ “Right.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by and taking the time to read and supporting this work!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussion of prostitution, allusions to intimacy, cursing in Spanish
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ July 28, 1942 _

_ To my lady in red,  _

_ You’ve been such a delight in my life, I’ve decided to help you in your endeavors. It’s always nice to see my girls branch out. I’ll be in contact with your instructor, she comes highly recommended by some of my contacts in the business, just as you suggested. Granted, I’ll be taking my cut when the film comes out, nothing good in life is truly free. But I want you to reach as high as that cat actress did, Sawyer, right? Consider this letter proof for any future contracts you need. _

_ Best of luck my Hollywood dream gal, _

_ \- KP _

As soon as the three arrived at De Los Santos Auto Repair, they could spot Paul and Roland examining the car that had given the two mechanics so much trouble. Immediately Wade’s heckles became rattled and yelled, “Hey! What’s Doughboy doing with the car, Frenchie?”

“Nothing dear, we were just discussing what kinds of fakes would we be looking for,” Paul dismissed the remarks with his usual candor. 

“You’d be looking for the cheaper alloys, something you’d find melted down in some junkyard,” Roland answered.

“Since when are you a mechanic?” the ferret growled, not realizing how unbecoming his behavior was. It was pretty obvious to everyone around him that he was either being a spoiled brat for someone trying to muscle into his work or into his best friend. 

“Since realizing that a cheaply made live round could mean life and death for my buddies in the battlefront,  _ sir _ ,” West responded back with a stern glare, gaining a spine to confront a civilian. It was enough to make Paul grin a little to the side, their chatter had paid off. Roland was becoming more assertive with the city folk, and he’d probably need it dealing with the police.

Before Danny could step in to be the peacekeeper, Sawyer stopped to give him a list, “I called Farley during my break to give me a list of current productions with animal cast members. Only one got cancelled in the last month, guess who was part of the main cast for that one?”

“Claudette?” 

The nod was enough of an answer, prompting Paul to frown a bit, “That’s a pretty big deal isn’t it? Having a movie just for her to star on? That’s a lot of money to sink into only to toss it away.” 

“She was co-starring, there’s a big difference. Main Star is usually one the studios want to push forward. Say...Darla Dimple for Mammoth Studios before she went and sabotaged herself. Co-stars are the ones the producers want to showcase,” Sawyer explained as she followed Wade to the office side of the shop, “She was being coached by Lady Abernathy, her diary mentioned getting voice lessons from one of the dancers at M&Bs, she was making a comeback.” In the office was the lot map they had all started with, now with updates from every scrap they came up with. What bothered Danny the most was the distance between the studio and where Claudette’s body had been found. From their experience with the shootout, Magnusson & Bird’s was a fifteen-minute drive to Sawyer’s apartment. But they were able to walk to the dance studio...so how did Lady Abernathy find Claudette?

Roland marveled at the sight before he realized the group was missing something. “Do you have witnesses to her last show? I was there, I offered to walk her home but she said she needed to wrap up a few things and would be home late...that was around one-thirty in the morning.”

“Claudette’s body was discovered by Lady Abernathy around 4 in the morning,” Danny added, pointing at the red pin on the wall, “Did she always walk home when you were around?” Roland shook his head, which now gave the actor a theory, “then she must’ve been waiting for someone...”

“Her diary makes multiple references to exposing someone, maybe she finally confronted them and it ended poorly,” Sawyer remarked, watching Wade settle down after recognizing that maybe Doughboy was useful for something. She was hopeful with the new lead, that maybe Lady Abernathy could shed more light into what Claudette was working on.

“Whoever he is, he’s a tomcat, kinda a slob, and he took the bottle from Ray. Same bottle that was then used to kill Claudette,” Danny continued before Paul cut in as he pointed to Roland, 

“And you can scratch Quentin Jones off the suspect list, he’s right here. So we just have to figure out who Mark Speedway is and see if either he or Kyle Patterson are our killer.” 

All the animals looked at each other with cautious hope before the older Richardson child furrowed his brow, concerned, “This feels way too clean-cut. It feels like we’re missing something.”

“Well, of course it does, Hollywood: we got a general idea of what happened,” Wade remarked, putting his feet up on his desk, “But we don’t know the specifics. If this were a movie, this would be the part where the killer messes up and reveals himself in some way, or leaves behind a crucial clue somewhere. But we’re dealing with real life, it’s messy and that means that the murderer is already five steps ahead of all of us.” 

Silence reigned over the office space at that moment, before Sawyer glanced at the map again. “There’s something about her route home...she went to the back, why?” It wasn’t as if she could divine her dead friend’s usual haunts but that detail stood out. Those alleys weren’t friendly to anyone, especially ladies of all kinds. 

“Because she didn’t want to be seen by anyone,” Elena’s voice broke the flow of the office, as she allowed herself to enter the supposedly closed auto-shop. Dressed in a soft blue shirtdress with a slit neckline, the lady ferret would’ve blended in with the rest of Los Angeles had she not worn a fresh bright red hibiscus flower on her head. It was enough to make Wade’s and Roland’s eyes widen, “We only use that exit if we know we’re gonna need privacy.” 

“How did you find us?” Paul’s curiosity overcame his initial caution, amused that  _ she _ could locate them instead of the other way around. “And how did you get in?”

“I asked around. There's only so many Spanish-speaking ferrets in this area,” the dancer replied with a shrug as she replaced a bobby pin back underneath the flower with a wink. It took Wade two seconds to realize what had just happened and he made a mad dash to lock the door behind her. She made her way towards the center of the room, taking in the scribbles and the newspaper clippings of her dear friend. This ragtag group had achieved more than she had initially thought and most likely, more than the cop was assigned to her case.

Elena grinned a little to herself, watching the other ferret disappear before she turned to Sawyer, her picaresque demeanor toned back to humility, “I never got to thank you for inviting me into Claudette’s funeral. Even after we treated you the way we did...I came by to let you know that Ray’s waiting for you all to explain yourselves.”

The Persian cat made her way to the new guest and offered a kind smile back, along with her paws to hold Elena’s, “You were her best friend when she died. It’s the least I could do.” The words struck the lady ferret’s heart with a rare glimpse of altruism she wasn’t used to, more so when Sawyer continued with an important question, “Would you pick out Kyle and Mark from a lineup?”

“Kyle? Yes. Mark? Nope. Claudette only told me that he was at the Jamboree, along with Quentin and Kyle. She never really talked about him, especially after he started sending really creepy letters,” Elena responded as she settled onto a nearby chair and beheld the wall, “You really are doing the legwork for this.” 

“She didn’t want to be forgotten, we’re honoring that,” Sawyer spoke up. A moment of silence passed between them before she asked with some trepidation, “Did she date Wildcat?” The name itself chilled Elena’s entire being before she nodded, causing the actress to hiss “Dammit.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Who’s Wildcat?” West inquired, out of the loop to the sordid details as the Richardson brothers and Wade showed their own concerns with Elena’s answer.

“Hate to break it to ya Doughboy, but Claudette was dating a mobster before you came back,” Wade grumbled, wasting no time in shattering any semblance of innocence the soldier could’ve had about his lover. 

“I didn’t say that,  _ pendejo _ ,” Elena hissed before explaining herself, not really caring who was listening, “Wildcat doesn’t date in the traditional sense. He finds a pretty face, he keeps them around until he grows bored with them. Claudette was one of his regular sides, wasn’t quite the favorite, this year it’s Blue Holly Vasilyeva.” She only realized that maybe she could’ve been a little kinder in her tone as she watched the Alsatian soldier’s ears drop in horror. “You really didn’t need to hear all that.”

“It’s fine,” Roland said, holding up a paw and letting the horror wash over him and out of his system, “What matters is that we have a plan, right?”

There was an awkward pause in which no one spoke, until Danny admitted while rubbing the back of his neck, “To be honest...we’ve been making it up as we went along and found more clues and pieces of evidence. This isn’t exactly what we’re good at, but we’re trying to get as much done before we call the police and bring in the evidence.”

“And even then, we don’t know if they’ll even consider the case and just go for the path of least resistance,” Paul added, looking concerned for the soldier, “You have to be ready to be deployed, and get as far away from here-”

“No can do, sir,” West straightened up, returning the concern with a surprising amount of determination, enough to move the cynical Frenchcat, “I’m not using my service to escape. If the police wanted me, they got me. I have nothing to hide.”

Wade noticed the softer look in Paul’s eyes and cleared his throat to petulantly break the moment, “That’s fine and dandy, Doughboy, but you’re still the most likely suspect. And honestly? I don’t trust you-”

“I trust him,” Danny cut in, exercising his unspoken right to stand firm to his friends and loved ones, “Just as much as I trust Elena. And everyone here.” The tone was stern, and for a moment, Wade saw just how much two years dealing with Hollywood had made the farm cat from Kokomo grow. For years, Danny might’ve been the unofficial leader of their childhood group with his spontaneity and natural charm, but now he seemed so much more capable of wielding both those traits. “Elena, Wade tells me you have one of Claudette’s necklaces?”

Elena was impressed that ‘Duvall’ could take control of a situation and nodded as a response, “I wanted to make sure I could trust you before I handed it over. It’s in my apartment, do you need it now?” 

Danny shook his head before continuing, “We’ll meet up at M&B’s later this week, I still have to explain everything to Ray, remember?” He then turned around to Sawyer, and asked, “When's the dinner with Maude?” 

“Saturday evening, over at Pasadena, why?” Part of Sawyer wanted to find an excuse to bail on that, but she figured Danny had something close to a plan. Maybe keeping up the appearances of a normal life?

The tabby pondered this fact and explained himself, “That should give us plenty of time then to investigate Lady Abernathy a little more before the dinner! She probably knows what Claudette’s comeback film was going to be and who wanted her to co-star. Elena, do you mind listening to your clients at the bar?”

Elena shot an almost sarcastic look at Danny before answering, “If they’re talking, but they don’t really do that much of that when they get up close and personal, sweetie.”

“I’m fully aware of that, but sometimes, everyone gets a little too honest in bed,” Danny reasoned, returning the quip with his own, “Roland,” the dog soldier straightened his back, as if awaiting orders, “Get your story straightened out, you’re gonna need a lawyer, fast. Sawyer, if you don’t mind…”

“I’ll have mom call up one of dad’s buddies from Loyola, see if they can work this out of pocket,” Sawyer responded, smiling a little wider as she realized she made the best choice in asking Danny to help her. “We need to come by dad’s office anyways, and see who’s trying to take Claudette’s estate and figure out who’s trying to claim her estate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by and taking the time to read and supporting this work!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussion of prostitution, allusions to adultery, allusions to intimacy, cursing in Spanish
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ September 12, 1942 _

_ Dear diary,  _

_ He came back again. I told him I wasn’t his doll to put away when he felt like it. I wasn’t a shameful secret to be discreetly paid off only to jump into my bed the moment he felt lonely. This whole mess wasn’t part of the deal. _

_ If I had the guts, and if I knew I’d face no consequences, I’d ask Larry and Barry to beat him up, let him know what it’s like to be humiliated. The moment Quentin comes home, I’m selling the apartment and everything in it, one last fork in that bastard’s eye. Probably give half to my parents, they deserve it after all they’ve done for me.  _

_ To hell with him. To hell with him and his money. If we’re both burning, then baby, I’m shoveling the kindling on my way down. _

The McDermid home was a simple one-story building, nestled into the LA suburbs, with a small front yard already decorated for Halloween. It wasn’t a typical mansion of those dealt with Hollywood and Danny could tell, Thomas and Hazel wanted to keep it that way. They did their jobs and saved their earnings for more important things, like honing their daughter’s joy and natural talent. In a way, it contrasted everything he heard about Maude and her family, these were cats that took pride in their work but remained humble. 

Hazel greeted them at the door, smiling as she hugged Sawyer close before mirroring the gesture to Danny. The actor felt a pang of nostalgia for his own mother, long since passed on: she had a similar, warm embrace.  _ She would’ve probably gotten along with Ms. Hazel _ , he thought as the pair walked into the home. 

“I bet you I know exactly why you’re here,” Mrs. McDermid joked as she brought out some pancakes, eggs and coffee, “And it isn’t my cooking.”

“No, but we appreciate the breakfast, Mom,” Sawyer returned the humor in kind, before commenting on a certain absence in the dining room, “Where’s Dad? I thought he’d be down here for-”

“Are you kidding me?!” the outburst could be heard from across the house, prompting all cats to listen intently, “When did this happen?! When did the opposing counsel plan on telling us- Harvey filed the amendment on time? All right, good lad. I’m gonna go have breakfast, I want a brief on the injunctions, and Claudette’s estate as soon as you have the judge’s signature. I don’t care if the ink’s wet, Wes and Bessie don’t need this right now. Yes, they just buried their daughter, they’re barely functioning as they are...I know...Keep me updated, I’ll make sure you get reimbursed for this...”

Hazel excused herself with a knowing smile as she made her way to the home office, leaning against the doorframe, in a scene Sawyer could recall from childhood, her parents talking shop, “You know Cal’s not going to accept your money. You both founded that firm fresh out of Loyola, he knows Claudette and her family.” 

“Caleb won’t have a choice, I’m still going to pay him. I retired from the practice too early, dear, I would’ve been right up there, giving opposing counsel a piece of my mind,” Thomas said, pinching his nose in frustration, “They tried to sneak around the injunction by having their claims amended to include a new...is that pancakes I smell?” 

“You retired just in time,” Sawyer spoke up, hugging her father tight to greet him, “You now get to enjoy courtroom radio dramas and ruin them for everyone.” 

“I won’t ruin any you’re in, you’re far more clever than those amateur lawyers that call themselves writers,” Tom joked around, “I must’ve been in that call for ages, when did you come by? Is Daniel around?”

“Sir, you can call me Danny, n-no need to be so formal!” the actor waved hello from the door as Hazel made her way to her husband’s wheelchair. From where he stood, he could see framed clippings of all the major cases Thomas had won for both human and animal clients, from a small eviction that was overturned, to large settlements against those who were already convicted for fraud and racketeering. 

It wasn’t hard to imagine that one of those cases had to be the reason he was shot down so long ago and in a way kicking off the Studio 13 incident: he won a case, and someone with deep pockets didn’t like that he did. The Kokomo cat was amused when Hazel pulled her husband’s wheelchair away from his work desk, watching the dignified tomcat scramble to keep working. “Breakfast now, work later, c’mon, I’ll write up the filings later,” the former paralegal said, ignoring the pout Tom was putting on. 

“So, uh, what’s going on?” Danny asked as they all started to eat breakfast, curious as to the earlier racket and how passionate the retired lawyer was, “Something about Claudette’s estate?” 

“Well, not to bore you with the legalese, but whenever someone dies, an estate is created with all the belongings, and their debts in their name,” Thomas began his explanation while taking a bite from his meal, “Usually that estate’s safe so any surviving heirs get their share. What’s happening with Claudette’s case is that someone that isn’t an heir is trying to muscle their way into her stuff and trying to claim it as theirs.” 

“Like a, uh, bank?”

“No, that’s a creditor, my boy. It’s more like they’re the owners of the stuff. Claudette left this world without much debt, so it should all go to her parents, but this company claims none of it actually belonged to her. As if everything she owned was loaned,” the lawyer elaborated, “Which is...a creative way to seize it all.”

Sawyer grimaced in disgust before remembering something Claudette’s diary mentioned, “What if everything was a gift?”

Hazel gave her daughter a strange look, puzzled at the suggestion, “Well, that would be a hell of a gift if it included a fully stocked apartment. But I suppose if we found proof of the donation, it would stop the claims dead in their tracks, since they would be considered part of her estate and not a loan. What’re you thinking baby girl?”

The Persian actress blushed a little being called her childhood nickname before responding, “A hunch. A hunch we’re gonna look into.” No use hiding her investigation from her own parents, especially if Danny’s father had graciously made the arrangements and put in his own time and effort. 

Both Thomas and Hazel looked at each other, concerned that their daughter and her boyfriend were biting off more than they could chew. Thomas finally spoke, shaking his head slightly but with a proud voice, “I had a suspicion you’d get involved somehow. Can’t sit back in the sidelines, gotta seize the opportunity, that’s the McDermid way.”

Sawyer smiled before replying with her usual pride, “I’m your daughter after all, you’d be more disappointed if I hadn’t picked up on a few good quirks from you.” 

As the bright California sun made its way through the morning sky, Wade was walking down the street, grinning like a loon and dressed like he cared about his appearance. He knew this part of Hollywood well enough, he frequented it often during the yearly summer carnival and sports events. He was far more amused with the name emblazoned to the five-story building he was facing.  _ Real Madrid Luxury Apartments, mom would have a fit if she saw this _ , the mechanic internally joked as he put out his cigarette and rang the doorbell. 

“What do you want?” a goat with a gruff voice and a familiar accent grunted out. It certainly sounded Continental, but not as melodious as Wade’s mother. It sounded dry, almost as if the building’s namesake city spoke through whoever this animal was. Then again, he was biased towards his mother’s Andalucian voice. 

“ _ Vaya caballero, buenos dias, _ ” Wade figured if talking in Spanish helped the exotic dancer feel more comfortable, maybe it would work again here,  _ “¿Se encuentra una dama hurón de nombre Elena? _ ”

The goat’s eyes thinned a bit before snorting, “ _ Esa sabandija, sabrán los santos donde está- _ ” His diatribe was cut short with Wade’s downright terrifying glare baring down. No wonder Elena would’ve preferred to break into his auto shop and risk injury rather than meeting her here: this goat was rude and openly insulting her.

“¿ _ Y qué coño le da a vos el permiso de llamar a vuestra inquilina de tal manera _ ? Never mind, what’s her apartment number?” the ferret asked, already feeling his temper rising. He might be a professional lout but he wasn’t raised to be a prick to others. The snapping stunned the goat into momentary silence before he responded with the number 302.

“Thanks,” Ángel waited until he was at the elevator to grin and bid the goat with one last insult as he closed the door, “ _ Cabrón _ .”

Apartment 302 stood out by being the only door out of five that had a recent coat of paint, making it stand out as the cleanest. Wade knocked lightly and fixed his shirt for the tenth time, already trying to keep his hands busy. He was a tad uncertain to meet Elena, but he chalked it up to first-meeting jitters...except this was probably the fourth time they’d met. He can’t remember what they talked about, he was just mesmerized by her beauty and raspy melody of a voice. Too bad it all got interrupted by a gunshot meant for her, as far as he knew. 

“ _ ¡Ya voy, Guancho, ya voy! Tengo tu renta aquí _ -” Elena pulled the door wide open with a wad of cash on hand, only to see Wade wave his paw slightly, “You’re not Guancho…” In fact, Ángel was a much better sight to behold than that dirty old goat. A stained shirt tied to the back, a messy skirt, and hair in a bun told Wade that he might’ve caught her cleaning. Not inherently suspicious but given the circumstances, he couldn’t help wondering if he walked into her destroying evidence.

“If you mean your landlord, I’m gonna need you to show me the emergency exit when we’re done. I may have insulted him on the way up here,” the mechanic said before asking, “May I come in?”

“Do you always make enemies whenever you visit?” the lady ferret inquired, crossing her arms and not quite answering the question. 

“Only if they push my buttons, and he did,” Wade quipped back. “I’m here for you and the necklace, if it’s here. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Elena seemed to ponder the answer before shaking her head, “Other than cleaning my place, no, not really. Come inside, Madrid-”

“If you’re gonna call me names, at least be accurate and call me Córdoba,” Wade smirked with a wink before stepping inside. The confidence he exuded was contagious, as Elena returned the expression as she closed the door behind her. 

The apartment was furnished with the basic furniture sets, all looking pretty good but Wade could find small stitches in the upholstery. It seemed as if Elena was making the most out of the rented apartment, saving every cent in what she could. Hanging by the bathroom door was a hotel service uniform as well as a waitress for a local restaurant, prompting Wade to ask, “How many jobs do you have?” 

“Three, counting M&B’s, you?” Elena answered as she allowed herself to be open. The Spaniard was at least trying to get to know her instead of just getting what he wanted. “M&B’s a big money-maker but I can’t rely on it too much.” Her subtle wincing told Wade volumes of what would’ve happened if she did.

“Besides the auto-shop? Set mechanic at Mammoth’s, plus anything I can find on the side. A lot of the old folks in my neck of the woods need their cars a-fixin’,” the mechanic replied earnestly, “Most people in this town have at least two jobs, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Even Sawyer and Duvall?”

The question caused Wade to chuckle and finally come clean with Elena, “His real name’s Danny, Duvall’s his grandfather,” the ferret then smirked, “I don’t think he’d appreciate what his grandson’s doing with his name if he were still alive. Given what we were doing that night...I think you'd understand why he didn’t want to show his paw too early. Stars shouldn’t really be out here investigating a murder, now should they?”

Elena smiled in response as she started to search for the necklace, “I knew he seemed familiar, he was in  _ Singing in the Rain _ with Sawyer and that penguin kid. How’d you end up being friends with a big star like that?” 

“Well, easy! I knew him from before he hit the big-time. We go WAY back, we grew up together...literally.” Wade answered, doing his best to not burst into pride and failing miserably, “Hollywood, Frenchie, and I have been through thick and thin, like we’re all part of the family.” Even if he had his increasingly complicated feelings to work out with regards to his fellow mechanic.

Unlike most animals, Elena giggled at how adorable Wade looked when he talked about his friends. It wasn’t the usual fame-chasing arrogance she tended to hear at the bar or in the hotels she worked in, claiming to be a friend of a friend to get something or someone. This felt awkwardly honest, a childhood friend who was genuinely proud and happy to be included. “You certainly sound thick as thieves.” She paused when she finally withdrew the velvet box from her closet. All the joy between them dissipated as she held out the wretched thing; she hoped she’d never have to see this necklace again. She silently opened the lid and revealed the tiered pink diamonds, strung along with silver links and even more rocks that could easily pay for a house in Kokomo. The late morning shine made the whole thing sparkle so bright, slivers of light bounced around the room. “Pretty sure there’s a companion...she probably gave it to her dance teacher as payment.”

“Guancho doesn’t know about this rock, does he?” Wade inquired, mesmerized by the necklace but more concerned for Elena’s safety. People and animals have killed for less, and the landlord didn’t seem like the type the ferret would trust twenty-five cents in his pocket.

“And he won’t, we’re going out through the back,” the lady ferret responded as she slipped into her bedroom to change clothes. Elena was unashamed to undress behind an opaque screen, and even less that she knew someone would be looking, her apartment was that small. Besides, the company was a bit more fun than what usually comes through those doors. 

No sooner had Elena fixed her hair and bag that she heard the elevator ding and the heavy hoof-steps. “ _ Que chingada _ , he’s right on schedule for the rent,” she hissed, prompting Wade to shove the necklace into his pocket. She barely got the bills out when the door banging started, “ _ ¡Guancho ya!  _ I got your money, dammit!”

“And tell that ferret bastard he owes me an apology!” the landlord shouted from down the hall.

Every bone in Wade’s body wanted to come up with a sarcastic zinger worthy of a movie script but he only resisted because someone else would get caught in the crossfire. He visibly cringed at the way Guancho leered at Elena, eyeing her like a piece of meat, but admired the way she showed him the way out, “Tell your missus Apartment 403 says hi.” The glimpse of horror in the goat’s face as he left the apartment was worth millions. 

“What was that all about?”

“Come on Córdoba, you’re a smart animal,” Elena quipped, leading the way out of her home, locking it shut, and heading towards the emergency stairs, “I keep my trap shut, he doesn’t raise my rent. Far better deal than 403’s if you ask me.” With necklace on tow, and a new resolve, the dancer felt a small weight lifting off her shoulders, as her mind wandered to tell itself,  _ Claudie, if you’re waiting for some justice, do you mind waiting a little bit more? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by, taking the time to read and support this work!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussion of prostitution, allusions to adultery, light discussion of grief
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ August 12, 1941 _

_ To the Lady in Red, _

_ I hope those two necklaces show you how serious I am in this. Be my gal, and there’s more where that came from. Be by my side, and I’ll take very good care of you. _

_ \- MS _

“Dad, why aren’t you heading back to Kokomo?” Paul asked as he continued his calls to all the shops in the area. Wade’s hunch was right: the Super Deluxe’s brakes and other parts were fakes and like Roland suggested, they were all made from melted down junk. While everyone was out playing detective, he was stuck being the responsible adult animal and doing his job at the auto shop. In his investigation, Paul had a few shop names that sold the fake parts: Moore’s Auto Parts, Boswell and Son’s, Peterson Mechanics Corp, American Hometown Metal Inc, and Carlisle’s Body Shop. Paul would be remiss that this was the second time he saw the Peterson surname in the last few weeks, taking note of what Louie Palmer mentioned about Wildcat...could he have a hand in this mess as well? Then again, Palmer was in the business of used cars and car parts, he’d probably know something too. 

“Already kicking me out, boy?” Samuel chuckled, resting on a nearby sofa, black Panama hat covering his eyes from the sun, “The parlor Claudette was a patient in has been giving me the odd jobs here and there. Haven’t had the heart to say no. They’re gonna pay me at some point. Why? Is your father cramping up your style?”

“Little bit.” Paul wasn’t known for being delicate with his family’s feelings, “I honestly haven’t minded your presence in LA as much as I thought I would, but I’m more concerned about Sammy, Marie and the parlor,” the mechanic shrugged, “I’ve never known you to leave home except for those trips to Bon Temps.” 

The feline mortician’s smile dimmed a little, “So I’m a homebody, take it up with the higher authorities.” That defensive response spoke more about Sam’s past than the bits his sons were able to piece together. “Visiting my own mother in the Quarter once a year counts as traveling.”

“You miss mom...don’t you?” Paul inquired, already guessing the answer to the question.

“...Every day.” Two words that tied Samuel to the elder Simmons' plight, knowing loss so intimately. His only advantage was the decade and change he had to let the old wounds heal. He switched the subject by answering the previous question, “Samantha’s apprenticeship ended a while back, and unlike you and Daniel, I don’t fear her setting the whole place on fire.” Getting pelted with a ball made of crumpled receipts was worth the shot at his insubordinate children, “Marie’s in Cata’s care, hopefully doing her homework or she won’t be going to her archery lessons.”

Before Paul could come up with a response, there was a knocking at the office door. Given the tensions, the younger Richardson grabbed a nearby knife while his father reached inside his chest pocket. 

“Hi Paul!” Danny’s unmistakable cheer greeted them before he read the room, “You look like you got a fire lit on your tails. It’s just me and Sawyer. Oh, and hi to you too dad.” Sawyer only lagged behind due to the folders and scripts she was carrying. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on set or something?” Samuel rolled his eyes as he stood up to get something to drink. “You know...working?”

“We were just at my parents’ place, and we’re dropping off these. These are carbon copies of everything my dad has on Claudette’s estate, plus everything I could find on that movie she was working on before she died,” Sawyer said, visibly cringing at that last part, “It was such a trashy movie, there was an audition for, and I quote, a French prostitute.”

Wade walking in with Elena at that very moment made Paul think the universe had somehow conspired to make the joke that much worse, “Wow, they wrote a part just for you, Paul.”

“I’m still here, Ángel,” the Richardson patriarch warned from behind the ferrets, causing Wade’s blood to drop to his feet. After greeting Elena with a courteous bow and a proper introduction, the mortician then inquired, “May I ask why you here? This little investigation’s getting crowded.”

The dancer, unused to the chivalry displayed by every member of this unofficial “detective” agency, paused before pulling the necklace out of Wade’s pocket and placing it on a nearby table, “This is why I’m here. I needed to give this to someone I could trust...I wasn’t kidding.”

Even in the artificial lighting within the office, the pink diamonds shone gloriously, taking even Sawyer’s breath away. She had only seen these on the big human stars, wearing them to the premieres. No one seemed to notice that Samuel had slipped out to the garage for a moment, like Wade, they were all transfixed.

“Holy moly,” Danny’s jaw hit the floor, “That’s a house. That’s a house in necklace form.”

“And I think I saw its sister-” the cream-colored tabby assured before the hypnotizing display was interrupted by Samuel snatching the jewelry off the surface and examining it for a second. Just as Danny was about to inquire what his father was doing, he lit a match under the largest stone, causing everyone to shriek in horror, then dropped it in his glass of water. After a few seconds of indescribable panic, Sam stated, uncaring of everyone’s shock, “Oh good, it’s real.”

“WELL THANK GOD!” Danny yelled, clutching his chest as if to keep his soul from escaping his body, “I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if it was fake!” They would’ve probably been out of a crucial clue and one that Elena had hidden from the police to get. 

“It would’ve shattered,” the patriarch responded matter-of-factly, “If Claudette was murdered to get this back, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

That snapped Sawyer out of her shock as she recalled, “She wasn’t...but maybe her killer tried to look for it the night we went to M&Bs! He probably had access to the apartment between her death and our visit to M&B’s, didn’t find the necklaces there, then tried to find a way to the back rooms...”

“And somehow, he knew Claudette and I were close,” Elena thought out loud, wrapping her arms around herself in a futile attempt to make herself feel safer, “He aimed at me, out of everyone there. It can’t be a coincidence.” An uncomfortable silence reigned over the shop before Sawyer took a look at the script for Claudette’s movie and scanned for stand-out details and commentary. Just as she suspected, handwritten notes dotted the margins and between the lines, with one question standing out in Act I Scene 10,  _ Can Abernathy do the choreo Sept 12? Boss wants a show _ , _ as a return on his investment.  _

“If he could dish out the cash to buy Claudette a pair of diamond necklaces, how outlandish would it be that he’d also be a producer in her movie?” she spoke her thoughts out loud. Danny pondered that thought and, just like his brother, remembered what Louie Palmer said at the funeral, “Not much, if he’s laundering money through the project.”

“...Then why go through the trouble of freezing her estate and trying to kill for the jewelry if he has that much money to burn?” Samuel pointed out, intrigued at that prospect, “That makes no sense, you don’t go making a spectacle of yourself involving the courts…” Then it clicked to everyone present but he spoke it out loud, “Unless you  _ don’t _ have the money to burn.”

“He was in trouble and he needed everything back because everything’s gone pear shaped until the murder happened,” Wade put it best, “The murder gave the guy an out, he could get everything he spent on her back.”

Danny then added, concerned with this outcome, “He started small, trying to get the diamond necklaces, the letters and her diary, then went all in when he couldn’t get to M&B’s. He’s trying to make sure nothing gets left behind that can tie back to him.” He glanced at Elena and stated, “Tell Ray we’ll be coming by this Sunday, is that alright? We’ll keep the necklace safe.” To Sawyer, he grinned, “We have a visit to a certain dance instructor tomorrow, bright and early.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time around, but thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by, taking the time to read and support this work!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: allusion of prostitution
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ June 18, 1942 _

_ To my Lady in Red,  _

_ I can get rid of your worries, I can get you everything you want. But promise me you’ll be mine. I’m a greedy cat, and every time you sit on my lap on those wild weekend nights, I feel alive. I’m willing to put money in whatever project you want. _

_ \- MS _

Lady Abernathy’s studio echoed louder as the morning sun rose that Wednesday morning, just as she promised the feline actors. As the doe stretched her limbs for the day ahead, she could spot the two reading a script and commenting on the routine. Danny didn’t miss the way she tried to catch a glimpse of what they were reading, Mammoth Productions were always gossip fodder and  _ Miss Angeline  _ was poised to have a decent run in the theaters. Leaks were highly sought after, but right now, that wasn’t the script they had.

“So, Lady Abernathy,” Danny began, setting the stage for the gamble he’d been cooking up since that Sunday, “I gotta ask: what part of Paris do you come from?” Sawyer merely looked up from her reading to be the captive audience, already piecing together what her lover’s angle was.

“I come from Louvre, very beautiful, you’d find it stunningly luxurious,” the instructor replied with that same haughtiness in her voice, not paying attention to the subtle smirk on the Kokomo cat’s lips. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering since your name is Lady Abernathy...it’s an English name,” Danny sparred right back as he stretched his arms. He definitely caught the tiny surprise in the doe’s face before recovering just as quickly. Apparently no one had dug further than the surface level of her name and position.

“Ah, well, when you marry to a higher station, you keep the name...even if your marriage ends unceremoniously,” the lady replied with a dramatic sigh, “Let us begin your routine, I cannot keep you two all day, I have classes to tend to.” The quicker this arrangement finished, the quicker they could all go about their day.

“Oh! Right away, Ma’am!” the tabby nodded eagerly, letting his country cat naivete shine bright, “I gotta say though, this routine might need your style, it’s got a lot of sweeping motions, a bit scandalous if you ask me, but I think it needs  _ une étape particulière _ .” 

“Pardon?” Lady Abernathy asked, tripping into Danny’s verbal trap and realizing too late what he said. She quickly covered up her indignity with, “Did you mumble something? I didn’t quite get that  _ monsieur _ .” She was calling his bluff but she was about to learn why her former student had the biggest grin on her face.

“No, I don’t think I mumbled that last part,” the actor raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “ _ Parce que je sais que vous ne parlez pas français _ .”

Caught in her own lie, Lady Abernathy cringed at the statement, knowing she failed. Her already cold demeanor dropped a few more degrees as she hissed, “I thought you’re from Indiana.”

“He  _ is _ from Indiana,” Sawyer assured only to state what was now obvious, “But you’re not from France are you?” Suddenly all those mysterious airs her dance teacher wielded in her youth disappeared, leaving behind a fraud in at least her identity.

It took what seemed like a minute for the instructor to speak again, to ask with a pronounced London accent, “What gave it away?”

“Plenty as soon as I heard you speak,” Danny said, shrugging before he picked up their script, “And we both know you’ve got your own part to play in Claudette’s murder, more than just being the one who identified her body.” The bound papers held in his paw might as well be made with soiled tissue paper by the way Lady Abernathy stared at them. “You were expecting her to come by at 4 am, before all your other classes and commitments.”

“Is that illegal now?” the doe scoffed, “To expect a student to come on time?”

“You saw her, she suffered so much before her body gave out,” Danny snapped back, startling Abernathy, allowing Sawyer to add in something to really make her squirm.

“But it’s illegal to be a knowing part of a money laundering scheme. This movie’s practically designed to flop or, at the most generous, go into the late night picture shows.” She then moved in for the ‘kill’ by adding, “A friend of mine was able to get this copy and, wouldn’t you know it? You’re on the margins!”  _ Note to self, treat Tilly to a weekend get-away for this favor, _ the Persian acknowledged, still remembering the gift the hippo dropped off.  _ “I told you Sawyer, I’m here for you!” _

“So...mind answering some questions?” Danny requested, “Like, who was bankrolling Claudette’s movie?”

Abernathy glared at the two cats before answering, “If I tell you, I’ll have a target on my back.” It wouldn’t be hard to piece together why as Sawyer cut her off,

“We have a pretty good idea, it’s not important to say who. Did he approach you to coach Claudette?”

“No, Claudette came to me first, asked if I was willing to clean up her act, even brought a necklace as a down payment. I initially refused, I didn’t want a harlot in my studio,” the dance instructor explained, “Two weeks later, I have a visit from him, from her benefactor, and he told me he did some digging on me. Her first class was the next day...and she handed me that same necklace.”

Hopeful now more than ever, the actress requested to see the piece of jewelry. 

“...Why?” Abernathy asked back, on edge.

“Because I want to know if you’re lying again,” Sawyer’s tone was frigid now, “Let me see it.”

With no other choice, Abernathy sighed and drew the same strange box Danny spotted in their earlier visit. The bauble needed no more introduction as soon as the two cats saw it: five diamond sisters in the elaborate chandelier structure, just like Elena’s. “Even when things were getting heated, she didn’t want the damn thing back. You could disappear to some two-bit town with the money you’d get from pawning it off.”

“Because she didn’t want them, even if they could buy her a new life,” Sawyer replied, with the context that only came from reading the diary and the letters. To prove the point, she handed the necklace back to Abernathy then commanded, “Tell us everything.”

“Or what, dear? You have a lot more to lose than I do,” the doe smiled, foolishly believing that her former student would care about something as trifling as fame when her best friend was murdered.

“I’ll bounce back: I’m a grieving starlet with a doting boyfriend who’d do anything to bring a smile to my face,” Sawyer reminded Abernathy, playing her own game now, “But I can’t say the same about you.”

It was probably Paul’s third time reexamining the crime scene photos for that day, but there was something off about the images. He would’ve continued to ponder when he heard a throat being cleared in his presence. 

“What is it, Córdoba?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at his best friend, “Did the real parts come in?”

“Yeah, Haverly’s sending them over,” Wade responded before leaning over, giving Paul a strange, suspicious look. The Frenchcat stared in confusion and annoyance before he spoke again.

“...Can I help you?”

“Are you and Doughboy a thing?” The ferret inquired, getting a “What” in response that was so flat, it put the papers to shame.

“Ángel De Los Santos, what the hell,” Paul choked in disbelief, “No, there’s nothing going on with-“ wait, why is he even humoring this line of questioning? He countered with, “Is there something between you and Elena?” 

“Not at the moment, nope, but at least I admit it,” Wade quickly responded, “Maybe in the future.”

“You really are a professional lout,” Paul rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Why are you so worried? Am I a delicate virginal flower to you?” Might as well put Sawyer’s words to good use.

Wade snorted, “Hardly! Just…Watching out for ya, Frenchie. You tend to be a heartbreaker, we’re cut from the same cloth-” he was amazed at how well Paul and Danny could pull off such a striking, judging face, must be the green eyes, “I guess I don’t want you to fall into something that will hurt you.”

“I’m touched,” Paul sighed, sincerity hidden under layers of sarcasm, “And I’d say the same to you...at least I’ve learned from all my mistakes.”

“Even Eddie?”

“ _ Especially Eddie _ ,” the tabby cringed at the memory of his first lay. It was terrible, neither of them knew what they were doing, and it was for the best that Edward ended it the next morning. But the memory of his first “walk of shame” through the back door triggered a thought in Paul’s mind as he realized, “Did the police ever find the murder weapon?”

“...No, Alfred only figured out it was a broken bottle because there were shards stuck in the wound. It was a weapon of opportunity, he got the bottle from the bartender. Why does it matter?” The ferret frowned before he came to the same conclusion.

“It matters because if the killer took the bottle after...we’re not dealing with a drunk that sobered up as we originally thought. This animal was fully aware of what he was doing, and cleaned after himself,” Paul said, a chill going down his spine as the off-putting sensation finally made sense. “This is someone who had no problems killing a fellow animal. He’s been protecting himself all this time...he planned Claudette’s murder.”

Wade breathed in, “Are you saying Wildcat did it?” 

“It wouldn’t surprise me, but I wouldn’t call it yet.” the Frenchcat stated as they both stared at the wall, and could see the threads coming together on two points: the mobster with a temper and the mysterious Mark Speedway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter than usual chapter, but thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by, taking the time to read and support this work!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: allusion of prostitution and discussion of grief
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ March 14, 1941 _

_ Dear diary,  _

_ I remember going to one of those pier-side carnivals with the dance troupe. We were all laughing, enjoying cotton candy and giggling about silly school things. Maude and Doug had broken things off, I was glad Sawyer and I missed that house party. I remember we were in the more exotic stands, and a fortune-telling vixen called us all in to give us each a free card reading. Dottie was a bit on the fence, but Phyllis and I went for it.  _

_ I remember my cards very well and in a way, I kind of hoped it came to be. I would be beloved, I would be cherished by a knight in shining armor, I would shine brighter than the sun. Maude would be a queen in her home, with so many roses in her life that they’d wilt, but she wouldn’t. _

_ Sawyer’s cards were less loud, maybe the vixen didn’t like the way my friend stated she wasn’t one for fairy-tales. She was destined to be of importance, that she’d be remembered, but she couldn’t “see” for what, that she’d find happiness in an unexpected place.  _

_ When I saw Sawyer’s first movie, it fell into place and I realized that old vixen might’ve been right. There she was, on the newspaper with her beau, remembered. My science grades weren’t great but I knew one thing: nothing that shines brighter than the sun lasts long. _

The week seemed to fly by, and Sawyer only realized it was Friday when she realized Pinky’s Diner had put out their weekend menu. “...I’ve been burning the candle at both ends,” she murmured mostly to herself, glancing at her list for Maude’s little shindig that night. While there was so much headway done in Claudette’s case,  _ Miss Angeline _ became her priority again, and she thanked the stars above that Danny stepped up to the plate with not only housework, but making sure they practiced their lines for their respective projects. Sometimes both worlds collided as the feline actress spotted a familiar dog in the liquor section of the local market. “Pvt. West?” she asked, startling the soldier out of what seemed a trance.

“Miss McDermid! F-fancy meeting you here!” Roland stuttered, standing stiff at such a surprise. “How’s everything? How are you?” Sawyer could see the bottle in West’s bag, prompting him to sigh out in reluctant acceptance, “Better than me, I suppose.” 

“Not that better off, if you ask me,” she admitted with a shrug, “Hope you’re not planning on chasing that with an empty stomach...could make morning drills a lot harder on you.” Gentle ribbing aside, the Persian cat offered, “Let’s get something to eat. My treat, Pinky’s makes a pretty good sandwich.”

Diners were always good to have a casual conversation in, even if the paparazzi were on the trail for a new scoop. Sawyer chose the most private corner, in the back and nowhere near a window. What would Glitzy Cockatoo blurt out if a starlet was seen with a murder suspect? It was a cosmic coincidence that the two animals who grieved Claudette’s death the hardest outside of her parents were sharing a meal.

“How are you holding up?” the actress broke the silence. “Did the police question you?” The nod prompted Sawyer to purse her lips. 

“I told them everything I knew, pretty much what I told you guys...except they went in pretty hard on me and Claudette being intimate,” Roland responded, looking at his drink with some annoyance, “They really believed I was so jealous of her work that I would’ve killed her.” 

“And yet...you looked troubled back there,” she observed both his tone and his body language, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Roland’s eyes barely lifted from his glass before he spoke up, “I’m torn up about all this…I’m torn between the past and present.” The confused look Sawyer demonstrated had him scramble for words, “That sounded really bad! I-”

“Are you stuck between what you had with her and what you know about her now?” the cat offered, getting a nod as a response. No surprises there, the picture the newspaper published and what was really going on were practically two different dog ladies. 

“N-Not just that, it’s...also…” he almost didn’t want to speak the words to her, Claudette’s childhood friend but he took the plunge, “I don’t know if I should allow myself to move on. I failed her, I wasn’t there for her. Do I even deserve a second chance to be happy?” He had to swallow down tears before he added, “Even considering it makes me ill.”

In a way, it was good that Sawyer heard those words come out of Roland’s snout, because it showed how deeply in love he was with Claudette. He was willing to put his life on hold for her, end his military career and take her away from Los Angeles. The only other animal Sawyer had ever seen such devotion that wasn’t her parents was now her roommate and fellow investigator. “Well…” An idea came to mind and she smiled, “How about you close your eyes and pretend I’m Claudette. You tell me everything you couldn’t and want to tell her”

The soldier hesitated before following the suggestion, eyes shut, “Claudette...I love you. I don’t know how it happened but it did, and now you’re gone.” His voice choked, comforted by a paw on his, “I can’t forgive myself for this, and for...my own selfish wish.” As troubling as the choice of words were, Sawyer listened, “My own selfish wish to move on and be happy.”

It took every ounce of strength for the actress to not break her silent character and let Roland know he deserved to continue living his life, but had she done so, she wouldn’t have heard what he said next, “I don’t think I’ll ever settle down after this. Losing you hurts too much. I’d rather die alone than feel this way again. And yet…I find myself torn that I found new sparks after your murder. I feel like I’ve betrayed you twice.”

That was Sawyer’s cue to let Roland open his eyes and see the present rather than an imagined past, “You’re not betraying her.” Because she knew that feeling: the cold pins of doubt stuck to her beating heart. “If she were here, I think she’d say to go for it. Go for those new sparks.” She could even hear Claudette’s mild Southern California accent in her mind:

_ Root-toot-toot, I’m dead, but you’re not! I’d be more ticked if a handsome dog like you moped me forever. Sure it sounds romantic but I’d be holding you back. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you didn’t see the world I never got to. _

“Knowing her, she’d be angry that you didn’t live your life to the fullest in her name,” Sawyer added with solemn joy, “all she wanted was to be loved and remembered, and you did that.” Such universal wishes, and only in death did Claudette get the fame she desperately craved. “Go follow those new roads, Sparky.” 

Roland let out a shy bark of a laugh as he finally took a bite from his sandwich, “Don’t let Mr. De Los Santos catch that nickname; I’m still getting used to Doughboy.”

“Call him Wade and if he gets on your nerves, let me know. My boyfriend will give him a good talking to.” 

Said boyfriend was back in the studio, working on his latest scene of  _ I Dream Of Marigolds _ with the unbearable lights and heavy costumes. These were the times when he internally cringed at his younger self’s mistakes: choreography was a pain in the tail to get perfect for film and one mistake meant resetting everything. He really should’ve been fired from  _ The Little Ark Angel _ for going so off-script. But that’s what hindsight was for: growth. 

It was during a duet that Danny noticed his father in the back, somehow managing to get past security. It wasn’t the first time Samuel heard his child perform, Aimee had always been keen on honing her children’s talents with practice and being present for every occasion. Music only stopped for her wake, and only resumed when they were all ready to celebrate again. The expression on the feline mortician was one of subdued pride as he watched his flighty son sing for the cameras and in a way, to the audiences that would later see the film. 

As soon as a break was called, Danny made his way to his father with some well-earned snark, “So, uh, what do you think? Still believe I’m not good enough to make it in Hollywood?”

“I was wrong on that front, is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“Yep,” the younger Richardson beamed, “I know I’m not mom-”

“Your mother would have smacked you up the head if she heard you comparing yourself to her,” Sam scolded with a wag of his finger, “She wasn’t a standard to be met, son, or an ideal. She was a cat, just like you and I.” 

“Aunt Elodie sure made me and Paul feel that way,” Danny grumbled under his breath as he led his dad towards the snack table, “What brings you here? Anything on the case?”

“Your aunts are idiots stuck in their old ways, take it from me,” Samuel replied, grabbing a plate and not really caring that he wasn’t supposed to be there. Looking like the specter of death did wonders for both people and animals to not question his presence. Even the Grim Reaper needed a snack or two. “And in a sense, yes. I was helping the parlor out with some new bodies when I overheard someone named Glitzy Cockatoo-” Danny choked on his coffee, forcing him to swallow before any drops hit the expensive costume, startling his father slightly, “As I was saying, she was asking everyone about Claudette’s funeral and the morbid details.” 

A cold dread came over the actor as he realized where this was going, “Dad...what happened?”

“They asked me for those details.”

A muttered French curse slipped out of Danny’s mouth, “What did you tell them?” Surely they must’ve made the connection between him and the mortician, they looked so similar, it was hard to miss. 

“I told them to leave the scavenging to the buzzards,” Samuel responded, before adding to a passerby vulture hauling off the sound equipment, “No offense,  _ monsieur _ .”

“None taken!” 

“Did you mouth off to the biggest name in Hollywood Gossip?” Danny was impressed, and maybe acknowledged that he got his father’s inability to care about the world’s opinion from him. Hollywood wasn’t entrancing that old cat into obeying her unspoken rules and her hunger for more scandal. 

“Unless that name has a written blessing from Claudette’s parents or an order from a judge, I’m not talking,” the mortician assured, then smirked as he finished topping off his plate, “No matter how much she squawked.”

As happy as he was that his father was a cat of morals, Danny’s eyes dropped to the floor, smiling in a self-deprecating manner, “I can’t believe you’re still here, and still cleaning up your kids’ messes.” 

Samuel caught that tone and lifted his son’s chin with a curled finger, “That’s what parents are supposed to do, Daniel. We watch you stumble, get bruised, then help you back up.” He paused as he then said something that burned a hole in his heart, “I’m very proud of you kiddo.”

“...Dad, are you dying?” Danny quipped, prompting Sam to roll his eyes in contempt.

“Must you be the troublemaking child?”

“Nah, that’s Paul but I’m a close second,” the actor shot right back with a grin. “I gotta get back to set, are you gonna be alright?” 

“I will be, I’ll be staying at the McDermids’ place for the time being,” noting Danny’s confusion, he explained, “I have no doubt our killer might try something stupid with the lawyers representing Claudette’s parents. Plus I get to meet the in-laws.”

“Try to keep the embarrassing stories until Thanksgiving, all right?” Danny rolled his eyes as he rejoined his cast, a little more secure that come what may, he knew that both his and Sawyer’s parents would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by to take the time to read and support this work!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: allusion of prostitution, alcohol consumption
> 
> Credit to the artist Shelley Pledger for inspiring the original iteration of Wade's character design.

_ September 17, 1942 _

_ Dear diary,  _

_ I wanted to believe that luck had played me a bad hand. That I got myself in this mess because I wasn’t lucky like Sawyer or Maude. But then, did luck push me into Kyle’s arms, knowing his paws were dripping with blood? Did luck whisper in my ears, ‘go follow that Speedway fella into his bed, he’ll spoil you so rotten you won’t be able to quit him’? Did luck put a target on my back because I stopped seeing them both? Or did Lady Luck make me witness a beatdown at M&B’s that landed a weasel in the hospital? _

_ No, I  _ _ chose _ _ those paths. I chose to work at M&B’s. I jumped into Kyle’s bloody arms, and even enjoyed some of the perks. And I definitely followed Speedway into the motel room, gave him a night that got him hooked.  _

_ But now I choose to run away with Quentin. He sent me a letter last week, told me he started the paperwork for early retirement.  _

The cab driver was a stout man who wasted no time in getting both Danny and Sawyer’s autographs as soon as they got in. In fact, Danny was pretty sure he knew this man, maybe he was the bus driver whose rant against animals making it big motivated the cat to give Hollywood one last audition. Either way, the tabby slid the window separating passenger and driver to talk to his girlfriend for a moment.

“So, be honest...how much weight do you give Lady Abernathy’s words on her story?”

“Enough that it’s a lead but not enough to give to the police,” Sawyer stated, taking in all the years of watching her father litigate in consideration, “My dad wouldn’t be able to use her as a witness on the stand, she’d be torn apart in cross examination. But she did give us a new clue when we talked to her...and maybe she’ll take our suggestions to heart.”

_ The haughty doe crossed her arms towards the two cats and admitted, “I can only be certain I was going to take a cut from the movie’s sales and from the money Claudette’s benefactor was cleaning up. I can’t say I ever saw the cat, he made sure no one saw him outside of any places he didn’t already have secure.”  _

_ “But it was a tomcat, and a high roller at that,” Danny said, trying to tie down what he was hearing to what was on their wall. Abernathy sneered at such a general description, to get another bombshell thrown at her face with a question, “Did he come for your necklace?” _

_ Her face of horror answered the question quicker than her words could, “How did you know about the break in?” She had the locks changed and everything! She also made sure her students never saw any evidence, lest their confidence in her abilities dried up. _

_ “I didn’t,” the Indiana cat smirked a little, “We already know where the sister necklace is, and whoever killed Claudette is desperate enough to try stealing them both.” _

_ “If I were you?” Sawyer spoke with a steel’s edge to her voice, “I’d take a vacation now. A few weeks, just you on the other side of the border. I hear the beaches are lovely this time of year.” _

“Do you think she’d take your advice and high-tail it out of Hollywood?” Danny asked, “Even if there’s a chance she’d never come back to the States.” The Persian shook her head, 

“She’s far more willing to risk getting killed than having her secret expo -- wait, what the…”

It was supposed to be a wine and cheese dinner thing, that’s what Sawyer understood Maude’s invitation was. That it would be her, Danny, Louie and Maude, just talking and dining. It’s why she chose a simple mint-green shirtwaist dress with a Forget-Me-Not pinned to her matching bow. But when the taxi pulled up to the driveway, it was a full-blown shindig with at least ten more guests, all Hollywood socialites like Maude, and swing music blasting from inside. Sawyer’s expression was one of dismay, she should’ve known otherwise, more so now with her basket with two bottles of French wine. Nothing was ever just wine and cheese for the heiress and she just dragged her lover into old dramas. She felt woefully underdressed, and for the first time in a long while, she felt insecure.

“Well,” Danny spoke, fixing his straw hat and his tie as he opened the door for the actress, “Shall we?” He looked amused at the party, as if he saw it as a new challenge to overcome. Given the fact that just a week ago he was in the middle of a shootout, this seemed like a piece of cake.

“You’re not bothered by this?” the Persian tentatively asked.

“Not bothered, just, I don’t know, another surprise Hollywood’s throwing at us,” he responded, “Sometimes it’s a French Ballet teacher that isn’t really French, and sometimes it’s these sorts of things.” 

That lackadaisical attitude probably helped Sawyer relax a bit more as she opened the gate. This house was familiar, she’d been here as a kitten: this was one of Daddy Bigbucks’ many properties in the state.  _ There’s the cabin in the North, the apartment in the city, the cabana at the Bay and this place _ , she recalled those three rows of stained-glass windows and perfectly kept lawns. Daddy Bigbucks, real name Earnest Albright, definitely lived it up with his inheritance, with him and his father managing the Albright Railroads even through the mess that was the stock market crash. Sawyer didn’t remember seeing her parents struggle through those dark times...or maybe they hid their troubles well. Sure, she couldn’t afford the luxurious dresses Maude would wear to school, but she was happy. 

“Sawyer, darling!” the Abynissian heiress greeted the two cats with a singing thrill at the door, “I’m so glad you and your beau made it!” Inside was a fully stocked bar with golden charcuterie trays in every flat surface that wasn’t decorated with flowers. The decadence overflowed like Maude’s glass, bubbly with a fresh raspberry at the bottom. Danny had only seen this sort of wealth in one place and even then, it couldn’t compare. This felt  _ different _ from the extravagances, the big name stars displayed, as if all Maude had ever known in life was this.

Maybe that’s why Sawyer had to gently lift his jaw shut with a knowing smile, “Close your mouth dear, they’ll see you flinch.” Maude had already gone inside, listing off her guests for the evening.

“I’m not allowed to be shocked?” Danny joked incredulously, now recognizing some of the animal faces in the room. These were all heirs themselves from different walks of life, from movers and shakers, hotel chains, to the old machines that kept California going. The invitation now made sense and why Sawyer was so uncomfortable with the sudden change from an intimate dinner to this. “You don’t think…” 

“Oh, it’s exactly what you think it is,” the actress caught a glass of whiskey from a nearby waiter and downed half of it in one gulp, feeling the alcohol burn, “So stretch those legs, we’ll be dancing for drinks tonight.” 

“...Well we could do that one routine-” Danny quipped, lips curled into a mischievous grin. 

“Daniel Alexandre Richardson, we aren’t doing that in a public setting,” Sawyer was quick to stop that train of thought, though her own smile showed that it wasn’t the worst way to liven up this party. 

“Danny, my good cat!” Louis cut into the couple’s chatter, already reeking of several bottles of chardonnay, “Come here, me and the boys are pulling out the cigars!” Without hesitation, the car sales cat dragged Danny towards the back of the house. “We’ll leave the ladies to do their twittering about.” Even if he himself was rambling about his money.

The Palmer-Albright home was not only a relic of old wealth but of a family whose halls were covered in portraits and pictures. Every significant event was framed, from the first truly rich Albrights marrying into the families, to smaller dots in their timelines, like graduations. One did catch Danny’s eye and he had to ask, “Hey, Louis is that you?”

The question broke Louis out of his rant and grinned, “Why yes! That’s me in high school!” In that old picture was a younger, fitter Louis Palmer dressed in a strange sports uniform, “I was a wrestler back then, only had one loss, and three draws.” By his left side was a cat that wasn’t Maude, meaning that it was very likely they hadn’t gone to school together. An interesting note that Danny kept to himself. “What about you, Danny? Did you do any sports?”

“Eh, I was more of a theater kind of cat,” the tabby admitted, grabbing a glass of brandy to get through this testosterone-laden measuring contest as best as he could. 

“...Really?” The disbelief in one of his guests, one Robbie Clyburn, son of famed lion investor William Clyburn, was palpable as soon as Danny stepped into the smoking room. “Not even football?”

“Maybe a little bit of marksmanship,” Danny shrugged, “nothing like my friend though!” He hoped that it would shut the gaggle of drunken idiots but all that did was spur them on.

Robbie smirked as he snapped his digits to the waiter, “You, get some apples and set them on a row outside.” The other heirs and Hollywood bachelors snickered as the sniveling lion took out a revolver from his shirt pocket. Everyone, including Louie, expected the farmcat from Indiana to react to the weapon, but Danny simply tilted his head with confusion.

“All...right then? You have a nice gun?” he remarked, causing a round of laughter to erupt from everyone there. Save for the host of course, who looked mortified.

Louis cleared his throat, “Uh, Danny, you’re supposed to pick it up and go outside.”

“Yeah, I figured, but why?” the actor wasn’t about to play dumb when heirs with more money than common sense could just whip out a gun to any guest. 

“I want to see how good a farmcat from some podunk state can shoot,” Robbie spat back, derision evident in his joking tone. “I promise you, no one will get hurt. It’s just us boys having a good time!”

_ Not only are we singing and dancing, I’m entertaining these idiots, _ Danny thought as he grabbed the gun and followed them out to the patio. Five apples were lined against a brick wall, as requested. If Samuel or Wade were here, they would’ve cleared this inane challenge without a hitch. Knowing now that his father had been a cop in his younger years now, it made sense he’d want his children, by birthright or not, to know how to use them. 

_ “You’ll hit everything but the target!” Wade ribbed his best friend on, smirking as once again Danny missed the bottles. Paul only chuckled from his spot, reading his book from the shade of the nearest tree.  _

_ “This is so stupid, I’m never gonna need to know this,” Danny hissed under his breath, tired of failing this one task. _

_ “Nah, you’re just not lookin’ and holdin’ it right,” the ferret pointed out as he then set his air rifle aside. As if Samuel would let his boys near live rounds, but the lessons were there. “Steady your paws, and arms strong. You can’t let it jump, or it’ll always miss.” _

_ The flighty Richardson cat sighed and decided to give this test another try. He put Wade’s words to practice and fired away. _

Those same words echoed in Danny’s mind as he raised the revolver and lined up his shots. The nightfall was no hindrance, he could see the targets well enough. All five guests watched with gleeful anticipation, to watch the actor fail this folly of a task. Five shots were heard, and five apples burst apart, with five bullet holes now decorating the wall. With every bang, every heir’s hubris dropped closer to the floor, until Danny checked the now empty wheel. At least no one else would use this gun.

“You should really give your gun some maintenance, it’s filthy and it’ll jam,” the actor said, smirking as he thanked the waiter and went back inside. It was in this respite, as Louis tried to assuage his guests’ humiliation that Danny could really take in the smoking room. He noticed a box just sitting underneath a desk, but before he could ask, Louis came in grinning, 

“I’ve never seen those spoiled brats be so surprised in my life!” the salescat was certainly pleased that his wife’s party was livened up. “How’d you do that?! Did they teach that in acting school? Here I thought Kokomo was some two-bit town!”

“Hardly,” the tabby raised an eyebrow at that description, “There are other states than just...you know, California and New York right?”

“Oh I know, they just don’t matter as much to us,” Louis flippantly admitted, somehow missing the glare Danny conjured up when he wasn’t looking. The feline actor rolled his eyes and slammed back his glass,  _ I’d rather be at M&B’s right now...these animals are somehow sleazier than an actual bordello. _

“Sawyer, you have got to tell me who does your hair,” a wealthy gazelle crooned over Sawyer, getting uncomfortably close to her ears.

“My special little trick, pick your flowers fresh and they’ll stay in place longer,” she responded, putting on a ceramic doll’s smile to placate her audience. Unlike Danny and his friends, Sawyer knew her way around these sorts of crowds. They weren’t really interested in what she had to say, they just liked getting answers to questions they asked. They had the means to throw these parties and not bat an eye at the price tag. It was clear that Maude wanted to show off that she could bring the hot new Hollywood power couple to her home. Too bad Maude didn’t count on her guests having a will of their own. 

This was supposed to be their break from Claudette’s investigation and God as Sawyer’s witness, she was going to have a good time. She flinched at the gunshots from outside, while the other ladies simply giggled. “My, my, the boys must be having a roaring good time!” Maude laughed the dangerous game off, “Oh don’t worry Starlight, it’s only a game.” That old nickname brought back mixed feelings from the Persian cat: Claudette had been the first one to be called that in the studio. 

_ It’s almost as if the world’s forbidding me to forget you, Claudie, _ Sawyer mused internally before she spotted the prairie dog orchestra playing soft music in the back. She smiled as she sneaked off to them and whispered to the headliner. For a second, the prairie dog looked confused as he hadn’t remembered that particular song in his roster but it was popular enough that he could follow the musical backing. When he asked who’d be the vocals, Sawyer winked, “You leave that to me sweetheart. Time to liven up this joint.”

Danny had just come back from his mess when the band abruptly changed their tune and started playing the beginning melodies for  _ For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow... _ except it wasn’t. Louis, blinded by his arrogance, thought the new music was for him and gallantly waved, “You shouldn’t have!”

“We did!” Danny replied, undoing his bowtie and setting his hat down, “Since we’re here, why don’t me and Sawyer give you all a free show?” He was practically daring Louis to contradict him. He extended his paw to his girlfriend, while she removed her flowers and announced, “You all can thank Mr. and Mrs. Palmer for this!”

Both aristocats were caught off-guard by this surprise announcement, especially Maude. No one had ever tried to upstage her in dance school, and for a second, she felt disoriented. Would Sawyer...humiliate her? After all those times that Maude should’ve known better? 

“ _ Say, baby, I’ve got an idea… _ ” Danny sang, acting out the role from Tommy Dorsey and Helen Forrest’s hit swing song, onto a rapidly forming stage in the middle of the home’s lobby. 

“ _ What’s that? _ ” Sawyer did her part, flourishing her steps with playful gestures, 

“ _ Let’s have a party, let’s celebrate! Let’s have a party and stay out late! _ ” 

Neither actors missed a break, a pause, a step, and just like their performance at Lady Abernathy’s school, they didn’t miss a chance to show off. Particularly when Sawyer sang out, “ _ Let’s do some dancing, and when we’re done, let’s start romancing, _ ” she momentarily dipped Danny into a kiss on the lips, earning exhilarated gasps from the female guests, “ _ Let’s have some fun! _ ”

“ _ Oh pretty eyes, pretty lips, pretty smile, I’d like to take you and love you a while… _ ” Those words were paired with scandalously close dancing for the time, not at all helped by the way Sawyer bit her lip with a smirk. 

It didn’t take long for the rest of the house joined in on the fun, all enjoying the swing music for the joy that it was. The last one to join in was Maude, who dismissed her shawl and started to dance alongside her friend, as Louis left her side to be somewhere else. For a moment, Sawyer and Maude were kittens again, dancing for the hell of it, laughing along to the music, with some tears thrown into the mix.

Claudette would’ve loved to be there in that moment, with her friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for your kudos, for stopping by to take the time to read and support this work! It's been a blast updating these every week


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